The Long Winter
by xXfireXflyXx
Summary: Two years. Two long years apart. When Max Wright is asked to surprise Loki in Asgard, she jumps at the opportunity to spend her summer holidays in a different realm with the love of her life. Little does she know, the invitation comes with some fine print. Meanwhile, Loki mourns his mother's death, his grief dragging him to new lows-and unexpected highs. Sequel to "Ghost Town".
1. Use my memory like a weapon

**Prologue**

Tires screeched noisily on the pavement as the car came to an abrupt halt, and Max couldn't help but yelp. Covered in sweat, her t-shirt and shorts sticking to every inch of skin they could latch onto, she yanked her headphones out of her ears and rounded on the spot to glare at the driver.

"I'm in the middle of the fucking walkway!" she all but shrieked, gesturing to the designated pedestrian crosswalk. The driver, a guy at the most in his late teens, laid on the horn and motioned for her to get out of the way. Her eyes narrowed and she flipped him off before jogging to the sidewalk on the other side of the road. Panting, she paused at the curb to put her headphones back in, her glare intensifying as the car whizzed off in the opposite direction.

He had a stop sign. Pedestrians were _always_ in the right. She rolled her eyes. Given the make of the car and the guy's age, she could only assume he was another trust fund baby whirling through the neighbourhood on his first day of summer break. She'd grown accustomed to the upper-class's disregard for anyone not in Prada or driving a Mercedes Benz, but this was the first time she'd nearly ended up in the hospital because of it. Shaking her head, she gave each leg a brief stretch, the end of her jog in sight, and pushed onward.

Her townhouse was a fifteen minute walk from the college where she was now an associate history professor. Set in Collingwood, an affluent Virginian community, the college had hired her last year to teach. They had only considered a handful of applicants, and once more Max had assumed her notoriety with the Avengers had given her a slight edge over the other contenders. No matter. All she'd cared about at the time was getting out of Manhattan, and this job offered her a chance to do that _and_ be close to Nolie.

Manhattan had smothered her after Loki left. The city was always too constricting, trapping her in its busy streets and never-ending high-rises. It had stifled her on every front, and she used to count down the days until she could go visit her parents in Vermont. Pat may have thrived in the environment, eventually recovering from her trauma with the invasion, but without Loki, Max struggled to adapt again. He'd taken her mind off all the things she disliked about living in such an enormous city, and without him as a buffer, Manhattan hit her full-force, no holds barred, no mercy.

She rounded the corner that led to her street, dodging a few well-dressed clusters of people out on an afternoon walk. Collingwood was a step down from Manhattan, certainly. Most places were closed by six or seven, even on a weekday, and the town was run by several wealthy families from old money. However, it was also nestled far from the hubbub of any real metropolitan area. Aside from the college HR rep, very few people knew Max's story or name, and since moving, she hadn't noticed a single paparazzi stalking her. She'd dropped off the tabloid map at last, and was only occasionally mentioned in relation to Johnny.

It hadn't been easy to leave the people behind in Manhattan. Pat, once their friendship returned to normal, had been her rock after Loki left almost two years ago, holding her up when Max thought she'd rather crumble. Her and Johnny's friendship had blossomed, and in the year she remained in Manhattan, their romantic life had been the subject of much speculation. All the rumors were false, of course: Johnny remained an eligible bachelor after Darcy left the state, and he seemed fine with that life choice—most of the time, anyway.

And then there was Garret and Tiffany, and their daughter—Max's goddaughter—Ellen. Tiffany was pregnant again, which meant she'd missed out on almost six months of helping Garret deal with his wife's mood swings. She hadn't wanted to leave them behind. She hated that she now had to fly to see them, or take a ridiculously long car trip. But, in the end, Collingwood was better for her. The pace of things was slower. The people, while a little snobbish, were friendly enough. Her coworkers welcomed her in, despite her lack of teaching experience, and the school gave her a renter's allowance so that she could afford her trendy downtown townhouse.

Plus the students were… Well, they were okay. Nothing spectacular to speak of during her first year of teaching, but she had high hopes for the year to follow. Her passion wasn't to teach history, but it was a nice break from the chaotic life of a museum curator. There was no talk of making her a full-time professor as of yet, and Max was fine with that. The thought of falling completely into education wasn't appealing to her, but it would do for now.

Collingwood's biggest plus was that it was close to where Elisa had settled with Nolie. The woman had become obsessed with her career after the move, continuously pawning her daughter off on relatives while she traveled the country in search of research grants and new agricultural projects. If Nolie was going to stay with anyone, Max preferred it that she stayed with her. The little girl was almost four, and she spent most of her days in kindergarten classes anyway.

For now, Elisa was back in Pewterton, a rural suburb ten minutes from Collingwood, which meant Max couldn't be sure when she'd next see her niece. The woman hadn't yet forgiven Max for whatever harm she'd done in regards to Nolan's death, and only ever called if she needed a babysitter. So far, no calls this week: Nolie was almost finished with her school year too, but Max knew it'd be straight to a children's summer camp the second there was no longer a teacher to look after her during the day.

As she neared her row of townhouses, she felt a pain starting in her chest. It was usually just before she hit home that it kicked in, and she was ready to collapse onto her couch with a cold drink and some reality TV. She hadn't done much running since her early years at college in Masonville, and since moving down to Collingwood, she'd made a vow to get in better shape. Teaching didn't exactly lend itself to an active lifestyle.

Barely able to hear the music over her heaving breaths, Max pulled her headphones out as she approached her townhouse. In the middle of the row, her utility charges last winter had been practically nothing. Now that summer's heat was kicking in, however, the turbo air conditioning unit out back would be used well.

Her eyes narrowed as her pace slowed, honing in on the steep concrete steps that led up to her front door. There were people sitting on them. Moving at a brisk stroll now, and she rolled her headphone wires around her hand, eyes glued to the people. She hadn't been expecting anyone.

Especially not an Asgardian.

"Thor?" Her eyebrows shot up when she finally saw through the plain clothing and the tied-back hair. His big hulking frame hid most of Jane from Max's view, but she was able to see them both properly once they stood up and sauntered down the steps. "Oh my god…"

She hadn't seen Thor in person since he left with Loki, and while a part of her lit up at the sight of him, a much bigger part would have preferred to see a different demi-god sitting on her front steps. In a way, it deflated her, yanking out the exhausted air in her lungs and leaving her breathless. She stood before them both with her hands on her hips, sweat glistening everywhere, her shirt soaked.

"I'd hug you, but I wouldn't even want to hug me right now," she managed, nodding to her body and smiling, her eyes squinting a little in the sunlight. It had stayed behind the clouds for her entire run, but now that it was finally poking out, her forehead was on fire—apparently she was getting a sunburn.

Thor and Jane. Jane Foster. Max opened and closed her mouth a few times, her eyes darting between the pair of smiles, but she couldn't find the words to express how she felt about seeing them. After all, she'd seen Thor on TV recently: he'd been in England battling some creature that no one knew how to identify, but apparently he'd left London in ruins. The news had been all over the event for weeks now, and it had only recently started to fizzle out in popularity, once more focusing on Tony Stark's questionable decision-making as head of the S.H.I.E.L.D. organization.

"I'm sorry, I don't really know what to say right now," Max told them after a slight pause. "I just… This is really unexpected."

Where's Loki? The question loitered on the tip of her tongue, but she was sure Thor could see it in her eyes. He smiled gently and placed a massive hand on her shoulder.

"You look well, Max," he said, the deep rumble of his voice bringing her back to the last time she heard it—two years ago, with Loki kissing her. A giddiness had started to spread from the pit of her stomach outward, her hands trembling and mouth watering. Adrenaline did that, right?

"Thanks."

"Congratulations on your new job," Jane added, briefly taking Max's attention from the Asgardian in front of her. She wondered if her nosy neighbours, the ones who didn't have—or need—regular jobs, were watching her through the curtains. "I'm sorry I didn't get back to you… I've been a little… distracted."

Max shook it off with a wave of her hand, nodding. "I can imagine."

After they'd parted ways, she and Jane usually spoke once a month, always over email, and not once in person. They both had their own lives to lead, and without Thor and Loki around, Max personally felt like their friendship lacked a bit of its spark. Still, they'd been more than cordial—more than acquaintances—in their emails, so she liked to think she could still count the astrophysicist as a friend. They'd been in touch before Thor's fiasco in England, where Jane now had a secondary lab facility, but then the communication stopped.

"Uhm…" She took a breath, her mind a mess with thoughts as she brazenly gawked at the pair. "I'm sorry, I don't want to be rude, but what are you guys doing here?"

Without Loki. What are you doing here without Loki? She glanced up and down the street, taking a second to look over her shoulder—hoping he'd be hiding behind a street lamp or sitting on the steps of a different townhouse. Nope. She licked her lips, trying not to let the darker thoughts take over. She hadn't seen Loki on the news.

"I have a proposal for you," Thor told her. She arched an eyebrow.

"Oh?" When he didn't immediately launch into said proposal, Max pointed toward her townhouse. "Do you want to come in?"

"It's so hot here," Jane said in response—obviously a yes. "I don't know how you're managing."

Max shrugged, working her key out of her pocket as she climbed the stairs two at a time. "You adjust, I guess."

A frigid blast of air conditioning swept over her as soon as she opened the door, and she held it for her guests. The townhouse itself was more space than she needed: its tiled foyer split off into a sitting room, a small bathroom, a TV room, and a totally grown-up kitchen area. There were two bedrooms upstairs, one of which functioned as an office and a guest room. It had taken her a while to start decorating, and so far only the downstairs hallway was lined with framed family pictures. The rest of her décor, according to her dad, was classified as "clutter" and "pointless junk", but Max liked it.

"Come on in," she said, slipping out of her running shoes and padding down the hall. Thor and Jane followed, their shoes left neatly by the door, and she told them to have a seat in the living room. Wanting nothing more than a cold shower, Max splashed some cool water in her face quickly, then filled a pitcher of iced tea and grabbed three glasses.

"I don't have much else in the fridge at the moment," she said, setting the jug and glasses on the coffee table in front of Thor and Jane, who had taken a seat on the couch. The TV room was the one room that looked well-worn, with some scattered pillows on the pair of couches, a few empty takeout containers on top of the TV, and a stack of her students' final essays on the armchair. "If you want something else, I can go—"

"This is fine, thank you," Thor told her. She felt a frown creeping forward, noting the lightness about Thor had changed. Maybe it was because she hadn't seen him in a couple of years, but he seemed… heavier. There wasn't the ease to him as he moved, and she tried not to stare—or analyze—as he filled Jane's glass and handed it to her.

"This is a nice place." Jane turned on the spot to look out the single enormous window in the room. "You have a fenced-in yard?"

"I don't use it much," she said as she grabbed her glass of iced tea and plopped down on the armchair. Fuck the essays. Most of them were marked anyway, and she'd give them to her TA during the woman's office hours if students wanted them—but Max suspected no one would pick them up, considering the term was over. "I guess it's nice to have though."

The trio fell into an uneasy silence. Jane's brown eyes wandered the room, as if looking for something else to compliment, and Thor was fixated on his drink. Max's legs, despite how sore and tired they were, jiggled with anxious energy.

"So…" She trailed off, hoping that might prompt him to speak. When it didn't, she cleared her throat and set her drink aside. "You said you had a proposal for me?"

"I'm here to extend an invitation to Asgard," Thor told her, and her skin erupted in goosebumps. "We have been through much reunifying the realms, but there is peace at last."

"Why isn't Loki here?" She asked the question before thinking it over, but once it was out in the open, she was glad she'd asked it. Loki should be here. If anyone was inviting her to Asgard, it ought to be him. The dark thoughts clawed at her once more: was Thor inviting her there for Loki's funeral?

"Your presence is… Well, it's going to be a surprise for my brother." Thor cradled the glass of light brown liquid in both hands, his gaze focused entirely on her. "War and… recent events have taken a toll on Loki, and I think it's about time the two of you were reunited."

She drew in an uneven breath, tears springing to her eyes. Excited tears. Relieved tears. Without thinking, her hand went to the silver chain around her neck, upon which hung the ring Loki made for her. When she'd returned to Manhattan, she found her job was too hands-on for a ring. She had always been taking it off when she handled and cleaned new artifacts, worried she'd somehow lose it in the mess. So, in the end, the safest place for it was around her neck.

She hadn't gone a single day without wearing it, in one way or another.

"Would you be interested in—"

"Yes," Max blurted, her smile hurting her cheeks. "Yes, I want to go."

She had the next four months free from any work obligations: she'd applied to teach a summer course, but she was passed over in favour of another associate professor. At the time, she'd been disappointed, but now it seemed her summer was meant for bigger and better things.

"Jane will be accompanying us," Thor told her. His grin had started to grow wider, some of the easiness she'd been accustomed to returning to his features. "Loki is currently unaware that you will be coming to Asgard… I think he will be very pleased."

"He better be." Her voice was shaking now, mimicking the exhilarated trembling in her arms and legs. Sniffling, Max wiped under her eyes, then tried really hard no to throw herself at Thor and wrap her arms around his neck. "Not going to lie… This is the best news I've had in months."

His eyes crinkled, his smile kind. "Good."

"It's the most amazing place you'll ever see in your life," Jane told her. "I was there… for what felt like a second. It's… indescribable."

She nodded. "I bet."

In all honesty, she didn't care as much about seeing Asgard as she did about seeing Loki. He was the reason she'd drop everything and leave her planet. Even after all this time, she was ready to run to him. When they'd first been separated, Max worried that time would make her feelings falter. She'd fretted over not seeing him every day—or every month for that matter—and wondered if they'd eventually just forget about each other.

Absence hadn't made the heart grow fonder. She wasn't _more_ in love with Loki than the day he left, but she knew she didn't love him any less. In actuality, he'd been pushed to the back of her mind. It had hurt too much to think about him all the time, especially when she didn't know when she'd see him again. The ring reminded her that she was in love—when she wore it, it was like her romantic side was shut off to everyone else. But it hurt less not to think about him, not to dwell on distant memories.

"We leave tomorrow." Thor's voice cut through her happy musings, and she looked up at him, somewhat startled. "Time runs differently in Asgard, and I believe you would wish to spend the most time with him that you can."

"I have four months off," she said, her voice distant. Despite her excitement, she wasn't ready to say she'd leave go Asgard for good—but she also suspected that wasn't what Thor was asking for either. "I don't know how long that will be there—"

"It's never long enough," Jane told her. She let out a long sigh, thoughts of Loki and a reunion drifting to all her responsibilities here.

"This is really short notice, guys." Max stood and grabbed her day planner, which was sprawled open on her dining table in the kitchen. She scanned through all the things she needed to do this week—her dad was supposed to drive down in three weeks for a visit. "I… I'll need to make a few calls."

He'd understand. This was an opportunity she'd probably never get again—she could visit her dad anytime.

Arms falling to her side, she shook her head. "What… What do I even pack?"

"Pack for cooler weather than this," Jane insisted as she stood, handing off her glass to Thor. "They were headed for winter the last time I was there."

"I'm not even sure I have a winter coat anymore." Not a real one, anyway. She'd discarded all the Vermont-tested outerwear for something a little more at Collingwood's pace.

Loki can make clothes. She could pack two things and he could make her an entire wardrobe. Her whole body shivered at the thought, though she suspected the chill was caused by her position beneath the vent, her sweat drying and cooling her.

"Let me help you." Jane swept by her, taking her by the wrist and tugging her toward the stairs. "I can help you with other things too, if you need… It's only fair."

"Want to grade some essays?"

The woman laughed, and out of the corner of her eye, Max spied Thor watching them. His stare almost seemed critical, and she felt that frown inching forward again. But Jane didn't leave her any time to think—only do. There were clothes to pack, essays to mark, family to call, and… well, everything to take care of in a single day.

When night had finally crept in, stealing away the heat and the unflinching sun, Thor and Jane left. They were staying in a bed and breakfast retreat on the other side of town, refusing to put her out by using her guest room. When she was finally alone, surrounded by order and neatness thanks to Jane's critical eye, she grabbed her phone and crawled into bed. Next to her was the bag they'd packed, lined with sweaters and jeans and thick socks. Downstairs, the essays were graded, and her TA agreed to swing by her place in the morning to pick them up—but only after Max promised a glowing recommendation letter (one that she planned to write anyway). Garret and Tiffany had been talked to. Elisa knew she no longer had a permanent babysitter for the summer months.

Punching in her home number, one that hadn't changed since she was a kid, she waited for her dad to pick up, nibbling on her lower lip. It was late, but she knew he'd answer—he always did.

"Hello?"

He sounded groggy on the other end, and a pang of guilt shot through her for leaving him to last.

"Dad?"

"Hi, sweetheart." His Scottish inflections made her smile. "Is everything okay?"

"More than okay…" She swept her finger under her eyes, hating that she was crying again. "I'm taking a trip. Tomorrow. I just wanted to let you know."

There was a brief pause from his side, as if considering her words. "Oh."

"I'm going to Asgard," she blurted, unable to hide her excitement. The words didn't seem real—the name felt foreign on her tongue. "I'm going to surprise Loki there… I'm going for the summer."

"That's… good news," he said, and she knew she'd dropped a heavy weight on him. "I'm very happy for you, sweetheart."

She nodded. "Me too."

Asgard. Loki. The nervous energy she'd been fighting all day finally made itself at home, twisting her stomach and making it ache. There was always the chance that he wouldn't want to see her. Max knew Thor wouldn't offer to bring her there if he knew that Loki had grown tired of her, but it was hard to ignore the doubts, the worries.

But she would. If she didn't, she'd never leave her bed—and tomorrow, she was going to Asgard.

* * *

><p>"I thought I might find you here."<p>

Here, in the chamber that housed the Tesseract, was precisely where Odin had thought he'd find Loki. The boy had been missing for almost a full day now, and when all the guards were clueless as to his whereabouts, Odin took the search into his own hands.

The boy sat in front of the stone lock, a complex pattern of constantly changing pieces that only Odin knew how to decipher. Deep below the surface of Asgard, the stone lay hidden—protected from those who wished to use it for wrongdoings.

Grasping his book, Loki retracted those spindly long legs and rose, dusting the rubble and dirt from his trousers. He gave the lock one last look, his head cocked to the side, and then rounded on the spot to face Odin. No words—Loki seldom said a thing to him as of late, but he wouldn't blame himself for that.

When their staring contest ended, with Loki blinking before Odin (always before, never after), the boy stalked toward him. For a moment, the old man tensed, his hands balling to fists, but Loki wasn't a fighter. He merely stepped around Odin and continued up to steps to the chamber's doors—doors that were supposed to be sealed magically, if he wasn't mistaken.

"It won't bring you power," he said, gazing at Loki's back. The boy stopped hard in his tracks. "You cannot become king by stealing the Tesseract once more…"

"I wouldn't need it to become king," Loki hissed, the sound creeping through the chamber like a serpent. It wrapped around Odin's limbs, pulling him down, and wriggled in his ear so much that his face twitched. "I have no desire for a throne, Father."

His expression hardened, as did his heart, and he raised his head so that he might look down his nose at the boy.

"Do your lies work on Thor?"

He swore he heard Loki chuckle before he left. Odin exhaled deeply, sparing a final look at the lock he personally had created to house the stone. Shaking his head, he climbed the steps, emerging from the dimly lit room to find the handful of guards he'd brought him. Loki was nowhere to be seen.

"Seal the doors," he instructed as he strode through the cluster of armed men, "by any means necessary."

A shadow swept past him, the shape difficult to read from the corner of his eye, and he thought he heard Loki's chuckles again. He shook his head, eager to climb back to the surface, to lock himself away in Frigga's study for the rest of the day.

That human girl had better be worth whatever trouble she brings—or he would need to take more serious action to see that Loki's foolishness hurt no one but Loki.

* * *

><p><strong>AUTHOR'S NOTES:<strong>

**WELCOME ONE AND ALL TO THE THIRD STORY IN THE SERIES. I CAN'T BELIEVE WE'RE HERE. **

**For serious. When I finished **_**The Sky is Falling**_**, I already had **_**Ghost Town**_** fairly planned out, and I was in the stages of contemplating this story—and I never thought I'd be starting it. I mean, in theory, I knew I'd get here eventually, but I just couldn't imagine putting my thoughts into words and sharing them. There are four planned stories in the series, so right now we're halfway through Loki and Max's journey. **

**As you can see from the way I've categorized this story, it focuses primarily on the Thor world that I've created. All our other Marvel pals will be fairly absent here—sorry to disappoint. I wanted to give a few brief details in passing, but the Avengers and S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Fantastic Four aren't really the focus of this story: it's about Loki and Max, and, well, lots of other things that happen along the way.**

**I don't have too much to say about this opening, but I'm excited to get started. I notice a lot of characters in fanfics fall into the teaching realm for some reason, so I really wanted to have Max not enjoy it all that much. She wasn't meant to teach, but it's a fun distraction. **

**Speaking of distractions, I can't wait to show you the inside of Loki's head. He definitely needs her. For sure. FO. SHO. **

**Okay. I'm done. If you're new to all this and wondering wtf is happening, go read the two prequels, because I'm not explaining anything for people who aren't caught up. If you are caught up and have questions, let me knowww! I try to answer ones that I think would help the majority of readers in these notes.  
><strong>

**As with **_**Ghost Town**_** over the last month or so, I'm going to stick with updating every other week. I'm nearly finished a ghostwriting job, so that will open my writing time up considerably. I'm aiming to be done that by the end of the month, so December may have more updates than November. **

**Anywhoodle. LOVE ALL YOU GUYS. I CAN'T WAIT TO TAKE THIS JOURNEY WITH YOU. WELCOME TO THE LONG WINTERRRRR! **


	2. Hold Me in the Dark when Storms Arrive

"Hey, miss?"

Max paused a few feet away from the cab, her traveling bag thrown over her shoulder, then glanced back. His eyes wandered the vacant lot he'd dropped her off at, Thor and Jane strolling ahead and into the field, and then leaned out his open window.

"Are you sure this is where you want me to leave you?"

She smiled and offered a quick nod, hoping she looked reassuring—that he didn't read anything as a secret panic sign and call the police. "Yes, this is the spot."

At least, this was where Thor's specifications had taken them. Last time he and Loki returned to Asgard, they were swept up in a huge beam of light, one that left the ground scorched with strange marks that Jane had been ridiculously excited about. It made sense that he wouldn't want to depart from a spot in the city. In the one day that he'd been in Collingwood, he'd been photographed by a number of local tabloids, and Max assumed he didn't want to cause any further stir in the small town.

"You guys camping or something?"

Readjusting her bag's strap over her shoulder, fitting it squarely across her chest, she shrugged. "Or something."

Ha! She'd always wanted to use that line—it always seemed so cheesy in movies and TV shows, but there was a strange sense of empowerment using it in real life. The driver shot her one last curious look, but she waved him off and turned away without another word. He'd been paid to take them out of town and into the more remote countryside. There were a few farms here and there, the land between them stretching for miles and miles, and she was pretty sure no one would even know they were ever there.

Well, except for the driver and the telltale mark they were going to leave in the grass.

Max listened as the cab's tires cut across the hot pavement, sweat pooling on the small of her back and dribbling down from her hairline. She'd been standing there sans air conditioning for a grand total of two minutes, and already she was a mess. Huffing, she wiped the back of her hand across her forehead, then jogged through the long, thin grass to catch up with the others. Some of the underbrush caught on her running shoes, sticking to the sliver of sock that stuck out over her leg. Dressed in a short pair of jean shorts and a loose black t-shirt, she looked like any other woman on a hot day.

But in her bag, she'd packed sweaters and long pants, thick gloves and a few scarves. Each article was carefully added as per Jane's suggestions. The woman had mentioned that she was given some Asgardian dresses when she had last visited, but Max preferred to wear her own things. In all honesty, she was nervous about traveling somewhere new. Sure, she'd been down to Cuba and Mexico a few times, but that hardly counted as adventurous travel when she spent most of her time at resorts with friends and family.

Asgard was different—it would be, anyway. She was throwing herself into a whole new world, and the least she wanted were her own clothes to remind her of home. She liked the smell of her laundry detergent mingled with her moisturizers and perfumes. It was a comforting smell. Plus Jane briefly mentioned something about an armored corset, and her body pre-emptively hurt at the thought. Cosy sweaters and well-worn jeans would suit her just fine, thanks.

Somehow, she'd managed to get everything done that she needed to before they left. It was mid-afternoon, and although she knew Thor had wanted to leave at first light, she needed more than twelve hours to get herself sorted. She dropped off her students' essays with her TA, informing the woman that she'd be out of the country as soon as possible for a summer-long vacation. She called her landlord to let him know she'd be gone, and asked that he pop in every so often, with her permission, to make sure no pipes burst and to grab her mail from the front step.

She'd called her dad before she left, feeling that she owed him that much. He needed a bit of reminding where she was headed—he'd grown more forgetful lately, and Max suggested he write himself a note as a reminder that she'd gone away. Her bills were set to automatic deposits so she wouldn't come back in September to a world of debt, and she informed the college that she would be out of contact for the next four months.

All of that _and_ she managed to eat both a breakfast and a lunch, though she was too excited and nervous to get much down. As of right now, one lone apple and half a sandwich churned over and over again, and while actual sweat trekked down her body, her palms were coated in a cool nervous sweat. All in all, she was a physical disaster, but her mind was finally in the right place. Nerves aside, she was thrilled to be going. The prospect of being in the same place with Loki, not just in her dreams, was the one thing driving her onward.

She couldn't wait to wrap her arms around him again. To touch him. To smell him. To hold him.

Of course, there was that little niggling voice at the back of her mind telling her he'd forgotten about her. So far, she'd prided herself on ignoring the voice, but it was still there, hissing horrible words and awful suggestions to the point where she felt like she wanted to puke.

"You may feel a little shaky the first time you cross the bridge," Jane told her as she approached. While Max was a bundle of every kind of energy, Jane radiated giddiness. She rarely saw the woman, someone Max considered very composed and straight-laced, come undone, but as the time to go to Asgard drew closer, Jane was the friendliest she'd ever been. Thor, meanwhile, was more serious than Max remembered him being, but she chalked it up to nerves about the journey. After all, he needed to hold both her and Jane—maybe the trip would be hard on him.

"Yeah, planes make me a little queasy," she said, coming to a stop next to Thor. "No barf bags for this ride, huh?"

He smirked, the corner of his lips twitching upward. "Not quite."

"Figured as much."

"Feel free to empty your insides once we've stopped moving," he told her, his tone a little cheekier this time. "Aim away from us."

Max's grip tightened on her bag strap. "No promises."

They all fell silent for a moment as a warm wind carried through the field, rustling the grasses and the leaves on the nearby trees. Somewhere in the distance, she heard the faint rumble of farm equipment, and it made her think of home. Taking a deep breath, she sidled closer to Thor.

"Okay, let's do this thing…" The heat was really starting to get to her, and the longer she stood in it, the more anxious she felt. Jane stood on the other side of Thor, her arm wrapped around his, and Max mimicked the stance. Thor glanced down at her, as if surprised, and she immediately wondered if they didn't _need_ to be touching to cross whatever bridge awaited her. She offered him a nervous smile, her eyebrows shooting up, and he said nothing about it.

"Try not to tense up," he insisted, and Max let out a curt chuckle. Easier said than done, guy. In that moment, Max had to blink rapidly: her field of vision started to cloud over, as if tainted by a golden dust of sorts. She batted her hand out at it, and the golden hues started to sparkle, like a crystal caught in the sunlight.

Seconds later, it was like someone had attached a cord to her and decided to yank up as hard as they could. Her feet were no longer on solid ground, and the sparkling colours intensified, blurring her surroundings so violently that she gasped. It couldn't have lasted for more than a minute, but her body felt both confined and airy, her muscles tight yet her body weightless. And the colours. The colours raced past her with such ferocity that she was instantly queasy.

And then it was all over. Her feet hit something solid so soundly that pain shot up through her legs. She let go of Thor on impact, crumbling downward and falling to her knees. Her bag was suddenly too heavy. It was difficult to draw a deep breath. She yanked the strap up and over her head, quickly realizing she was surrounded by gold.

"Holy shit." Her voice was nothing more than a strained whisper, and she sucked in air when she felt a large hand splay across her back.

"Did you survive?" Thor's words echoed slightly wherever they were.

She nodded, focusing on the golden glittery floor beneath her in an effort to gather her bearings. "I think so, yeah."

"Good."

Good. Yes. Good that she'd made it over the bridge alive. The floor was cool to the touch, but not unpleasantly so, and she fought the urge to rub her sweaty face against it. She wiped at her forehead again, but it seemed the brisk air was drying her sweat away, leaving her a little chilled.

"Lady Jane Foster," an incredibly deep voice rumbled. Max's head shot up to the find the source of said voice, and couldn't tear her gaze away from the man standing before her. "Welcome back to Asgard."

"Thank you," Jane replied, though she sounded quite small in comparison. It seemed she too needed a helping hand, and Thor steadied her nearby. But this man… This man in golden armor, standing in front of her with a broadsword in hand, his horned helmet meeting every Viking stereotype she could think of.

Reminding her, fleetingly, of Loki.

This man was the strangest man she'd ever seen. His skin was incredibly dark, but when their eyes met, she had no words to describe the colour that bore back at her. It was like looking into a bonfire.

"Lady Nannette Wright," he greeted, stepping off the golden platform and leaving his sword behind, stuck upright in the ground. "Welcome to Asgard."

"M-Max," she said shakily, accepting his huge hand when he offered it to her. There was no flicker of confusion on his features, but she thought she should clarify anyway. "You can call me Max."

"I am Heimdall." He helped her to her feet like he was lifting a child, and she stumbled a little in the process. "I am the gatekeeper between realms. It is I who brought you here."

She brought her hand back, her arm falling limply to her side. "Oh. Thanks."

"You are most welcome."

Since becoming involved with superheroes and Asgardians, Max had received some penetrating stares in her day. Hell, beyond that, she had had whole lessons of students looking at her, some with glazed expressions, others with such intense focus that it was unnerving. The way Heimdall looked at her was something else entirely. It was like he could see down to the very core of her being—and then some. Her nervous sweats started up again, and she broke the eye contact by bending down and grabbing her bag.

With the connection broken, the gatekeeper moved on to Thor. They greeted one another like old friends, clapping each other's backs and shoulders, their smiles warm. Well, Thor's smile was warm. Heimdall's smile was almost visible, but she could feel the kindness radiating from him. Rather than feel ignored, Max took the time to study the dome-like room she found herself in, noting that the walls reminded her of the inside of a clock.

Her jaw fell open when she turned around. The window that greeted her showed the stars, so close and vibrant that it was like she could reach through the panes and touch one. There were colours too: pinks and purples, blues and greens. The universe—she assumed that was what she was looking at, anyway—wasn't the dark pit she'd always thought it was. No, it was beautiful. Not a bad view for Heimdall either: all she saw from her office window was the campus hot dog vendor and a Starbucks.

"Wow…"

"I told you." Max twitched as Jane's voice sounded by her side. She'd been so wrapped up in the scenery that she forgot that she wasn't the only stranger in a strange place. "It only gets better from here."

"I have arranged for a shuttle to take you to the palace," Heimdall boomed, and Max found him back up on his elevated platform. "Enjoy your stay, my ladies."

Both Max and Jane muttered their thanks. It was obvious they were both overwhelmed by the man, and Thor swept them toward the domed doorway with a hand on each of their backs. Outside the round room was the great outdoors: a bridge stretched toward a distant city, the sparkling gold colours carrying on throughout the architecture. Rather than climbing directly onto the boat-like shuttle awaiting her, Max peered over the edge of the bridge, her eyes running along the dark waves rolling over the body of water below. A sea. A sea in space. A whole civilization… in space. She swallowed thickly, her body prickling with anticipation.

It was all _real_. Every last part of it was an actual place. She knew, in theory, that Asgard was a real place, but it had been hard to conceptualize without seeing it.

"Wow."

"The capital city of the realm stands before you," Thor explained as he helped her into the shuttle. He set her bag beside Jane's, and Max leaned on the thick siding of the boat. "There are many provinces… Some safe, some not. I suspect Loki will take you to the countryside at some point."

She shook her head. "I don't really know what to say."

"That will pass," Jane told her as Thor clambered aboard their transportation, which, as soon as his hand touched the steering rod at the rear, shot off the ground. Max squealed, clinging to the sides for support, but her body slowly relaxed as the little aircraft—boat?—shot forth over the bridge. It moved no faster than a car in an urban area, puttering over the golden mile smoothly. Her hair fluttered behind her, the sweat accumulated from Virginian heat long since dried.

The city grew larger and larger as they encroached on it, reminding her of Manhattan with its enormous buildings and scattered high-rises. It continued to grow, looming over her as the boat left the bridge, making a straight line for a glittering structure in the centre of the city's chaos. The palace, Jane told her. They bypassed regular people in medieval garb, many pausing to watch as the shuttled whizzed along. Average Asgardians. Thor wasn't the only one. Loki wasn't either. There was a whole world going on up here—and there were people on Earth who still questioned the existence of alien life.

It was all too much to take in. The buildings were both ancient and futuristic in appearance, dwarfing her with their spires and domed rooftops and shiny walls. There was greenery too. Amidst the enormous buildings, both horizontally and vertically speaking, dark green foliage poked through.

Yesterday, all she'd wanted to do was crawl into Loki's arms and never leave. Now, she still wanted to do that, but her curiosity had been tickled: Max wanted to see and experience all of it. She wanted to run her hands along the impossibly smooth buildings. She wanted to smell the trees. She wanted to dip her foot in the space sea. Her camera, nestled safely in her bag, was going to capture every sculpture, statue, and fountain possible.

The palace itself was… well, something else entirely—again. It reminded her of pipes on a grand organ, its golden clusters reaching into the dark sky. Beautiful. She could see why Loki wanted to go home. She'd always sympathized, but now she empathized. She understood.

Only when the shuttle came to a slow, gentle stop did Max realize she was freezing. In all the excitement, she hadn't noticed the way the cool wind made her skin erupt in little bumps, nor did she register that her teeth were chattering. Pushing off the siding, she went for her bag, her head kept upward so that she wouldn't miss a thing as her hands groped blindly for a sweater. After finding a fuzzy grey one, she yanked it over her head and pushed her arms through.

"This is incredible."

Jane shot her a knowing smile, and Thor too seemed content to let her express her wonderment without any added commentary. They'd stopped in a busy courtyard, with men and women of all ages strolling about. Some looked like they belonged in the palace, while others appeared to be trying to sell their goods to the wealthier population. They all, however, made a clear path for Thor as he strode forth, both Max and Jane hurrying to keep up with his huge strides.

All those eyes on her… Curious. Some narrowed. Max tore her gaze away from the palace's exquisite outer layers for a few seconds, and it was then she noticed some groups of people whispering. She drew in a deep breath and kept her stride even with Jane's. No one was wearing jean shorts, that's for sure.

Max had no idea how to describe the interior décor of the palace: medieval with its stonework and pillars, yet beyond modern with its holographic images and art. A part of her wanted to sit Thor down and grill him on everything, but a much bigger part had hoped to find Loki waiting for her right then and there. When he wasn't, she deflated a little, her pace slowing. The people inside the palace were more subtle with their staring and whispering than those outside, and as she clutched her bag's strap, anxiety started to worm its way in.

Max had to resist the urge to bring her sweater to her nose and take a deep inhale: it would have reminded her of home, calmed her down, but she'd also look incredibly stupid.

"Max…"

She almost walked into Thor, her eyes everywhere but facing ahead, and she looked up at him with slightly flushed cheeks.

"Loki is still unaware of your presence," he told her, "and I thought perhaps you might like to wait for him in his room."

She couldn't nod fast enough. "Works for me."

The self-consciousness shot out of her, and she walked beside Thor now, eager to see the truest place that Loki called home. They left the expansive, high-ceilings of the main level behind them, and Max soon found herself climbing a hundred stairs upward. The grand, wide-set stairwell reminded her of her time in the Baxter Building—and also showed her that despite her daily jogs, she still wasn't in the best of shape. By the time they reached the top, she was horribly winded, and doubled over to catch her breath. Jane was in no better shape: the woman plopped down on the top step and leaned sideways on the wall, panting.

"Ladies," Thor chuckled. "I'm very disappointed."

"Go fuck yourself," Max wheezed out, straightening up and gulping down air. "I bet the atmosphere is different here… Our bodies need to adjust."

"Hmm… I don't believe so…"

He laughed when Max shoved at him weakly. She was sweating again, but she was sure it would pass. The weariness, the dizziness, the damp sweater. It would all pass. None of it mattered.

"Have fun climbing this for the rest of your stay," Jane managed to get out between short, wheezing gasps. "Thor's room is on a lower level."

"Can't wait."

She pushed those thoughts aside when Thor opened the door to the room, and without an invitation, Max pushed by him and crossed the threshold.

It… wasn't what she'd expected. Loki's room was at the top of one of the smaller towers in the palace, and it was incredibly bright and airy. The room itself was square and broken into two levels. Max stood on the first level with several bookshelves and chairs arranged around a circular hearth. Two steps down sat a bed and a writing desk, covered in papers and tomes and feathery quills. Beyond the bed was what looked like a balcony, as the wall simply stopping for about five or six feet before starting up again. However, after further scrutiny, she realized it wasn't a balcony at all: the room simply had a huge opening in it with no added walkway outside—it'd be a straight drop to the ground if anyone stumbled through it.

"This is his… room?"

"We shared a room when we were boys," Thor told her, and she looked upward, her mouth open as she gawked at the glass ceiling. Definitely no chance of sleeping in on sunny days. For now, the panes were coated in a light dusting of snow. "Loki chose this room when we were too old to share the space… It's been his ever since."

"Huh."

"Does it surprise you?" She looked over her shoulder and found him smiling, as if he already knew the answer. Max nodded.

"A little, I guess."

She wasn't exactly sure what she'd been expecting anymore. Max hadn't formed any ideas in her head about what Loki's room was supposed to look like, but if she had, it wouldn't have been this. It would have been… darker. The books were no surprise, mind you.

"I'll go find him," Thor said as Max tentatively set her bag down on one of the thickset black chairs by the hearth. Embers burned low in the pit, and she wondered if Asgardians had a marshmallow equivalent up here.

Was it acceptable to make a quick trip back to Earth if not?

"Yes, please," she said after a moment. "I'll be here."

Thor nodded and shut the door as he left, leaving her alone for the first time in Asgard. Alone, yet surrounded by Loki's prized possessions. Figuring she had time to kill, she started with the bookshelves, trailing her fingers over well-worn spines. After she'd poked through his reading selection and recognized none of the titles, she stepped down the two stairs to the lower level of the room, just then noticing a small door—probably a bathroom, considering she hadn't seen one anywhere else.

Shooting a quick look back to the door, Max went for the bed when she was sure no one was watching. She sprawled out on the velvety soft blanket, her body sinking in to a plush mattress. His pillows smelled like him. His scent had been ingrained in her since he left, and she'd refrained from washing any of his old shirts because she liked holding them, sometimes pretending he was still there. Occasionally she'd catch a whiff of something in her everyday life that would remind her of his smell, and a deep stab of longing would shoot through her.

Even now, she felt her throat tighten as she buried her face in his pillows. Once she sat up, she brushed her fingers under her eyes, desperate not to cry. She'd cried a lot when they were last together, for a variety of reasons. In the two years that had passed, Max hadn't cried often. Sure, she'd cried the first time she met her goddaughter. She'd cried the anniversary of Nolan's death.

She'd cried a lot when her mom lost the fight to cancer.

But those were times when she was allowed to cry. Otherwise, she'd managed to keep her emotions in check, steeling herself from the tears. It always surprised her that she had any more left to give, happy or sad. These were happy tears—still emotional, yes, but happy nonetheless.

She sat up sharply when she thought she heard something outside the door. Tensed and waiting, she watched the dark wood for a long while, hoping the knob would turn and Loki would step in. When nothing happened, she climbed off the bed and continued to peruse the space.

The weird gaping hole in the wall—obviously intentionally built into the design of the room—was worth investigating. She stuck her hand out, surprised that the room wasn't cooler with the opening, and then yanked her arm back in when it was met by brisk, chilly air. It must have been enchanted or something: no cold air wafted in, nor did the breeze blow any of the trickling snowflakes passed the stone outer wall. There was nothing stopping her from falling through, however. It kept the cold out, but it probably wouldn't keep her in. She made a mental note to steer clear of it if she had a drunken night at some point.

Last but not least, the writing desk. Max stood in front of it, noting the stool that had been tucked below, and ran her hands over the parchment paper. None of the writing was in a language she could understand, and a panicky thought crossed her mind: would she be able to understand anyone here? Clearly the script was different, but would the spoken language be a hurdle she'd struggle to cross?

She shook her head and set the paper down. That shouldn't matter. It wouldn't matter. All that mattered was their reunion and their time together—just her and Loki. As much as she wanted to explore the city, Max would have been happy if they never left this room.

As her time alone in Loki's room dragged on, she stopped listening for the creak of the door. Instead, she opened one of the mammoth books buried beneath loose papers, her eyebrows shooting up in surprise. It seemed like he'd filled every page with writing. She still couldn't make out the letters or words, but the drawings… They were beautiful. Whole pages filled with landscapes and nature. Sometimes she'd happen upon two pages that encompassed a single scene—one such instance was of the Manhattan skyline.

Pulling out the stool, Max knelt and set her elbows on the desk. She smiled, flipping through the pages of scribbles and detailed drawings alike, oblivious to the footsteps thundering up the stairs just beyond the doorway.

* * *

><p>"Brother!"<p>

Thor couldn't help but notice some reluctance in the way Loki slowed to a stop. With Jane in tow, he made his way for the man, ignoring the usual hustle and bustle of ordinary palace affairs. Lesser lords and nobles roamed the halls until sunset, after which many found their way into his father's feasting hall. They all sought an audience with Odin. They schemed to acquire one another's lands. They craved power. Some traded children, married them off.

Taking a step back, he could see why this environment might be toxic for his little brother. Loki had always wanted to be important, and with all these nobles rushing to and fro, there were certainly enough yes men around to boost his ego, to encourage his less savory thoughts. Odin's opinion was harsh of Loki, but as Thor shot a sidelong glance at the cluster of arguing nobles, he wondered if it wasn't entirely misplaced.

His brother _had_ grown. He'd made so much progress on Earth, but that didn't mean he was any less susceptible to the whims of greedy men.

Loki turned slowly, his vaguely pleased expression dropping when his eyes wandered to the woman behind Thor. Almost immediately, his features were stained with contempt, and Thor half-expected him to walk away. He blamed Jane. Loki blamed her for what happened to their mother. He knew, in the logical part of Loki's mind, that his brother didn't hold his lady love entirely responsible for Frigga's fate. However, in their interactions following her death, he'd been far less kind than he'd once been, barely concealing his feelings even for Thor's sake.

The silence that hung between them was thick and tense, but Loki managed to break it by offering Jane a miniscule smile.

"Back so soon, are we?"

Thor glanced over his shoulder and down to his small lady, who gave his brother a barely there nod. "Yes… I couldn't stay away."

"Not infected with something this time, I hope—"

"Loki," Thor said sharply, drawing his brother's ire toward a better-equipped target. "Jane is my guest."

"I am aware of what she is," Loki remarked, turning the book in his hands over a few times. "You have no need to remind me."

"Well, you have a guest of your own today." He raised an eyebrow when those green eyes shot directly to his. Loki frowned, but before he could question it, Thor nodded toward the stairwell that led to his tower. "A visitor from Midgard… She's waiting for you."

"Wha…" Loki trailed off, unable to finish the question. His animosity toward Jane seemed forgotten—for now.

"In your room," Thor said. "Her hair's shorter than the last time—"

His little brother pushed around him and raced for the stairs, not bothering to apologize to any of the scheming nobles that he shoved out of the way in the process. He hoped Loki would be happy now. He wanted to hear him laugh, see him smile… He wanted the brother he'd seen glimpses of on Earth. So, while he wasn't pleased with the tactics Odin had taken, he prayed for a desirable outcome all the same.

"I apologize for his behaviour," Thor said when he turned back to Jane. The commotion of Loki's abrupt departure had brought all the chatter around the hall to a pause, but it resumed quickly, and Jane was soon under his arm. "He is still grieving for our mother…"

"I didn't say anything."

His lips threatened to turn downward at her response, but he decided it was best to ignore the whole situation and move on. He pressed for a smile instead, hoping that it would catch with Jane, and strolled away from Loki's tower.

"What would you like to do first?" She'd been so excited to return to Asgard, especially now that it was her choice—and she wasn't crawling with poisonous Aether. He wanted to make her happy.

Thor wanted to make them all happy.

Jane let out a long breath, exhaling the tension out of her body, and then looked up at him. "Everything."

Thor grinned: he should have expected that.

* * *

><p>Was that Peter's costume?<p>

Max turned her head to the side in an attempt to gauge what was on the page before her. She was halfway through the huge book of written and drawn works on Loki's desk, and she swore he'd sketched Peter's Spiderman mask in the corner somewhere. Naturally, that made her question what he was writing about if he'd been prompted to draw Peter—perhaps recounting his time on Earth during the alien invasion? Her eyes flicked to the writing, which was still incoherent at best.

Maybe she'd asked him to teach her to read it while she was here—as if there wasn't enough to do.

Max leapt back from the desk as if the whole thing had caught fire when the bedroom door flew open, slamming against the wall and bouncing back to its place. Through it strode the person she'd been dying to see since he left. Loki wasn't winded from climbing the staircase. No, he looked perfect—just as she remembered him.

Almost.

He stared at her for a moment, arms by his side and a thin book clutched limply in one hand. Her chest heaved with excited breaths, her throat suddenly tight, eyes burning with tears. Happy tears. Relieved tears. Her lips wobbled, and she held up her hands.

"Surprise!"

His eyes never leaving her once, Loki shut the door and set his book on one of the dark chairs. He paused briefly then, a hand touching her bag, and Max took a few fleeting seconds to study him. Dressed in a black pair of trousers and a dark green shirt, he looked far more casual than the rest of the members of the palace had been. There was no armor, no metal. No weapon hung by his side. Instead, she was met with ashen skin and sunken eyes, his face reminding her a lot of the first time she saw him in Manhattan.

But he'd been home these days—not tortured by beasts in space. Concern came to mind, washing over her like some great wave in the space sea. Why would he look like this? From afar, he was just as he was, but the closer he came, stalking toward her with long and deliberate steps, she noticed the oddities. His hair was longer than she remembered, and he wore it loose to his shoulders in thick waves—she wanted to bury her face in them.

He slowed his march a few feet from her, his gaze darting back to the desk she'd so thoroughly perused. Max gave a little shrug when his eyes returned to her face, smiling sheepishly.

"I wasn't snooping." She swallowed thickly, drawing uneven breaths. So close. She could reach out and touch him with ease, but her hands stayed knitted together in front of her body. Trembling. Shaking with nerves, with excitement, with anticipation. "I mean, I was a little… I couldn't read anything, but you never told me you liked to draw—"

He descended upon her like a wild thing, his lips covering hers like a starving man upon consuming his first meal. She let out a surprised squeak, the sound muffled between them, and let her hands wander his solid frame for the first time in almost two years.

What she really wanted was a hug. But it wasn't difficult to resist his wandering hands and his desperate lips, and Max let him lift her onto the desk. He shoved at his things, papers fluttering to the floor, a few quills trailing after them. She clutched at his shirt, drawing him back to her and wrapping her legs around his waist. Cool hands cupped her face, bringing with them a flood of memories that she'd been trying to keep at the back of her mind while he was gone.

She slipped her fingers under the hem of his loose shirt, yearning for as much skin-to-skin contact as she could get. He took the hint, pulling back briefly to drag the fabric over his head and toss it aside. Breathless in his absence, she licked her lips and tried to get a word out—something, anything really—but he silenced her with another harsh kiss, his teeth nipping at her. He bore down on her with no regard for the differences between them, or so it seemed, and she let out a little whimper when her head knocked against the wall.

In an effort to slow him, Max wove her hands through his hair and tugged sharply, but that did nothing to hinder him. His lips broke away from hers, wandering forcefully over her jawline, down her chin and neck. It felt so good for him to hold her again—her body ached for his touch. Her eyebrows shot up in surprise, however, when he popped open the button on her shorts, and then tugged them down. He needed no help getting them off, nor did her underwear stay for long. She heard him fiddle with his pants as the air tickled her skin. Max whispered his name, caressing his cheek and trying to catch his gaze. Another unsuccessful attempt.

Even when he kissed her, his eyes were closed tight, hiding from her whatever he was truly thinking. Max would have let it go if he hadn't yanked her to him by the undersides of her knees, then pushed completely into her. Both pain and pleasure shot through her body—she wasn't ready yet. Almost ready, sure, but not quite. She inhaled sharply and pushed at his chest as hard as she could.

"Ouch, _ouch_," she hissed, her hands fisted in the fabric of his shirt. That seemed to catch his attention. He blinked a few times, as if coming out of a stupor, and quickly pulled out of her. The tightness left with him, her body tingling, and she shook in his grasp.

"I'm sorry," he breathed. Her throat was tight with emotion again after hearing him speak for the first time—and she hated that those were his first words to her. Then again, hers weren't much better. Neither of them had ever been great at greetings. "I'm sorry…"

He murmured the words over and over again, showering her with gentle kisses now. Max nodded, catching his face by his chin and smiling.

"It's okay." She shook her head again, finding it easy to forgive him. How could she fault him for being overeager? He'd been away from her for two years too—the distance would have affected them both. She cradled his head in her hands, muscles tightening when he let some of his actual weight rest on her, and she pressed her forehead to his. "Hi."

His warm breath danced across her face, and he returned her smile, seeming almost relieved. The lump in his throat bobbed noticeably, and Max leaned in to his touch when he ran a fingertip along her flushed cheek.

"Missed you," she whispered, the words making him close his eyes again. His nod was all she needed to know the feeling was mutual, and she wrapped her arms around his neck tightly when he hoisted her up. Loki carried her to the bed, perching on the edge as she settled on his lap. Straddling him, she lifted her arms when he tugged her sweater and t-shirt off. She peeled off the bra herself and pushed off her socks and shoes, noting that he'd shed the rest of his clothes too. It was then she got the hug she wanted.

They stayed like that for some time, holding one another. Loki's hands wandered to her hips, and his thumbs stroked her skin, face buried in the crook of her neck and shoulder. His breath came out in even bursts, warming her skin, while hers eventually slowed too.

The slowness didn't last for very long. Just as her heart stopped hammering in her chest, Loki kissed her again. The desperation had eased out of his touch, and this time he took her slowly, passionately, working her into a frenzy with ease. He knew how to tempt her—it was like they hadn't been apart at all. When she was on the brink of peaking, of tumbling over the edge into bliss, Max pushed his fingers aside and slid down the entirety of his length. There was very little pain this time; considering she'd been practically celibate since he left, she wasn't surprised it wasn't all sunshine and daisies the first time they were together.

Just like his slowed kisses, he seemed in no mood to rush her this time. He let her set the pace, her body rising and falling with her hands on his shoulders, their parted lips always touching. She felt safe in his arms, protected and adored and worshipped and _loved_. It'd been so long since any of those feelings engulfed her the way they did now.

How was she ever going to be able to leave him again?

Her pace quickened as she drew nearer and nearer to her climax, Loki's hips thrusting up against hers, hard and steady. It surprised her then that she came so sweetly, the sensation trickling through her slowly. She let out a soft moan, hugging him again as he rolled her onto her back. He wasn't quite as gentle in his enjoyment of her anymore. Sometimes her teeth chattered together when he thrust into her, his slow and deliberate fucking building to something much more overwhelming.

"Easy," she whispered, pushing up on her elbows to kiss him, to distract him. "Not so hard."

His jaw clenched as he slammed into her one last time—she could already feel the bruises forming.

"I'm sorry," he told her as his thrusts grew softer. "I'm sorry… I just want to… take you—"

She caught his lips in another quick kiss. "I know. It's okay."

Loki shook his head, his words sounding pained. "It isn't…"

Face buried in her neck, he took her until his pace grew erratic once more, and she winced when his fingers dug into her thighs. But his groan was oddly satisfying, and he was very careful in the way he pulled out of her after, his skin flushed.

Drawing a breath was easier once he was off her, and Max sat up. "Bathroom?"

"That door there," he replied, pointing to the closed door near the desk that she'd suspected was a bathroom earlier. With a brief nod, she slipped off the bed and darted across the room, acutely aware of the way he watched her until she disappeared behind the door.

The ceiling here was also glass, letting in a grey lighting that highlighted the features of the room. Instead of a toilet, there was a decent-sized hole in the stone floor, accompanied by an empty circular tub, and a basin with a jug of water beside it. Max pursed her lips: this was the first time since she arrived that she'd been unimpressed. Sighing, she tried to clean herself up the best she could before returning to the bedroom.

"What the fuck is that?" she demanded, pointing back to the bathroom with raised eyebrows. Loki was seated against his headboard, his long legs stretched out, arms resting behind his head.

"What?"

"You live in _space_ and your toilet is a hole in the ground?" He smiled as she came nearer, then pulled back the blanket to welcome her in.

"I'm afraid bathroom facilities are not entirely up to par—"

"That's putting it generously," she said with a slight roll of her eyes. The velvety soft blanket was even better wrapped around her than it was pressed to her back, and she gathered it up to her shoulders, murmuring her contentment. Her skin prickled as she tilted her head to the side, accepting Loki's chaste peck and nuzzling.

"Why don't I have a bath drawn for us?" The suggestion sounded enticing: that round tub was huge and deep, and the thought of submerging in warm water with her handsome man was too good to pass up on. Max nodded, nibbling her lower lip, then watched as he climbed out of the enormous bed and slipped back into his pants.

Then he left the room completely. Shifting, Max tried to peer around the door to see where he'd gone, only to settle back in bed when he returned.

"It'll be ready in a moment."

She grinned, leaning toward him as he climbed onto the bed and kissed her. Unfortunately, the kiss came to an abrupt end when two people slipped into his room, and Max hastily brought the blanket back up so that only her head was visible.

"What—"

"My servants," he told her, clearly unfazed by their presence. "They'll fix us a bath."

Max watched, tense, as the duo went for Loki's bathroom, and stayed tense until they left. Loki, meanwhile, spent that time trying to coax her to him. Once they were alone again, she dropped the blanket and shifted out of his reach.

"I don't like that."

His eyebrows furrowed. "Like what?"

"_That_," she said, pointing to the now closed bedroom door. "I don't like strangers coming in here while I'm naked."

Loki's lips parted as he drew in a breath, but he seemed to concede her point quickly. He nodded at her, then flicked his fingers at the door. Across the room, something bolted shut noisily, and she presumed he'd locked them in.

"I understand… It won't happen again."

There was a moment of tension, but Max brushed it away with a deep sigh. "Good."

Loki's lips curved up into a grin, and she couldn't help but giggle as he stalked toward her on all fours. She fell back as he pounced, stealing kiss after kiss until all her laughter had been snuffed out. Eventually, Loki dragged her out of his bed and threw her over his shoulder, his soft chuckles music to her ears, and carried her into the bathroom. That huge tub was suddenly filled with water, the room scented with something pleasant yet unfamiliar. He set her in the water gently, and as he yanked off his pants, Max slid under the dark water.

So warm. She could fall asleep in here—no problem. She breached the surface when he climbed in, drawing a breath and smoothing her wet hair over her head.

"You cut it," he noted as she settled against him, her head and hand resting on his chest. She felt him fiddling with the soaked locks, which were now shoulder length. "It's like the first time I saw you… It was short then too."

"Shorter." She recalled it being about chin-length then, maybe a smidgen longer. Max closed her eyes as his hand massaged her neck, working its way down to her shoulders. They fell into an easy silence, as if they were both seeing each other after a long day at work—not after a two year gap.

"I've missed you greatly." She tilted her head up at his words, meeting his gaze just as he looked down at her. She trailed her hand over his face, cupping it and stroking him with her thumb. "I've… _needed_ you."

"Me too," she breathed. He kissed her forehead, holding her head to him for a few moments, and she brought her hand down to his chest again. It was then she felt something strange—foreign even. Sitting up, her eyes narrowed in the dimly lit room at what looked like a healing wound right where his ribcage flared out. "What happened?"

He was silent for a moment, still massaging her, and then exhaled deeply.

"It's a long story."

Then Max saw it—all of it. She saw the agony on his face, the worthlessness in his eyes. She saw the misery, the hopelessness, and the guilt. She had no idea what would bring this out of him, but she couldn't—and wouldn't—ignore the signs.

"So tell me," she prompted, shifting closer, her lips resting by his ear as she held him. "Tell me your long story…"

* * *

><p><strong>AUTHOR'S NOTES:<strong>

**HELLO MY DARLINGS! So nice to see so many of you have added this story to your alerts… I saw lots of familiar names. Even if you aren't reviewing anymore, it's nice to know you're still there. **

**Just a quick note on how my weeks run. I update every other week at the moment. My weeks run Sunday-Saturday for updating, not two weeks from the date of the last update. So if you're trying to figure out when there will be an update, that's how it'll go. **

**Anywho! I was really excited to write Loki's room the way I did. A lot of stories have him in the basement levels, all darkness and sadness and whatnot. Not going to lie, I've written that too. So, I wanted to do something different. I feel he's detaching a little from his society at this point, so it made sense to me he'd have this loft-style room in a tower away from everyone else. **

**I'm also enjoying the contrast between Loki and Max to Thor and Jane, particularly focusing on their reunions and Jane's excitement over Max's homebody-persona. I will continue to write a character with flaws and strengths, and Max is nervous about being away from home. She always has been, and always will be, I think. **

**I'd love to see some speculations about Loki's headspace right now… I'm super excited to write his POV sometime in the next chapter or so. It's a blast and a half in there. **

**I was initially going to split this chapter in two, but I figured why bother? We just want the reunion, right? Why drag it out? **

**It's been wonderful seeing so many supportive things written for this story, and I can't wait to share it with you! I'm almost finished a ghostwriting job, so that will open up some writing time. HOWEVER. I'm scheduled for a surgery the second week of December… I'm hoping to post the next chapter before I have it done, because I fully anticipate being out of commission for a few days after, maybe a week. **

**Just figured I'd keep you updated. YOU'RE ALL AMAZING. LOVE YOU. SEE YOU SOON. BYE. **


	3. This Love it is a Burning Sun

There is a fleeting moment, when one wakes up in a new place, which is full of panic. It's that split-second between sleep and awake that leaves one confused. When Max finally felt herself drifting out of her dreams, she stretched upward with a soft groan. Eyes clenched closed, she flinched when her fingertips scraped along stone and not the familiar hardwood headrest she'd nailed into her rental bedroom's wall a year ago. Her eyes shot open and she inhaled sharply, startled.

This wasn't home.

A hand touched her bare shoulder, and she sat up on an elbow. The day was grey, a continuous dismal lighting trickling in from Loki's glass ceiling, and she found him right beside her. He was partially dressed—she couldn't see under the velvety blanket, but he was wearing a loose grey shirt with a slight v-shaped neckline.

"It's all right," he murmured, stroking her skin, his cool palm cupped over his shoulder. "You're fine."

"I forgot where I was for a second," Max told him as she pressed a hand to her forehead. It was Manhattan all over again. It was waking up in the Baxter Building with nothing but Loki to cling to. It was her first morning in Collingwood when she'd cried on the phone to her dad—a thirty year old woman, whining about a new home. She swallowed down the lump in her throat and shook her head, willing away the fears, the old worries. "What time is it?"

"That doesn't matter." There was a book on his lap, and he tossed it aside when she rolled over and buried her face in his abdomen. His shirt was coarse and unwelcome against her skin, but she didn't care. She'd deal with itchy material if Loki was beneath it.

His hand left her when she tugged the blanket up, and he pulled it into place so that she was covered from the neck down. Still naked, she closed her eyes as she wrapped an arm around his midsection. It would have been so easy to fall back asleep. She was still tired, sure, but some part of her brain was finally starting to perk up. Loki. Loki in Asgard. Together. She couldn't waste the days away sleeping.

But she could doze for a little while longer.

They'd stayed in the bathtub for hours last night, Loki constantly reheating the water whenever her teeth started to chatter. He'd told her some of his long story, filling in a few of the pieces that she knew of when Thor wrecked London a few months back. Still, getting information from him was like pulling teeth, an analogy she could use, considering she'd actually pulled someone tooth about before. Loki's. In Manhattan. With a bit of help. He'd given her bits and pieces. Dark Elves. Jane. Hunting the Aether. The realms falling to chaos.

Loki was hiding something from her. She had no intention to push him. The whole ordeal sounded messy, and his eyes had watered a few times whenever he broached the story about the invasion of the palace. After a while, Max had stopped him with gentle kisses, ones that led them down a familiar road, until finally they were in his bed. Falling back, exhausted and satisfied and weak, was the last moment Max remembered from the night before, and she assumed she'd fallen asleep at his side.

They had time to talk. She hadn't told him her mom had passed away last year. She hadn't mentioned the new job yet, or how she'd moved. In fact, their first night together had, overall, consisted of very little talking about any specifics of her life. The evening—afternoon, night, whatever—had been more about being together. Physically. Emotionally. She knew they could talk. Conversation had never been difficult for them in the past—at least, not when it was about neutral, easy subjects. Her life was a neutral subject. Easy. A little boring.

Inhaling his scent deeply, Max snuggled closer. Her arm tightened around him, and she let out a sleepy moan when he started to fiddle with her hair.

They had plenty of time for Loki to fill in the pieces of his tale—all of his tales. His storytelling last night had been scattered at best, unfocused and full of stops and starts. He'd stammered once or twice, something she'd never heard him do. It was obvious something had happened to him. He was scarred from a battle he didn't go into details about. There was evidence of war on his skin and in his heart, and she wasn't going to push him for more than he was willing to give. Time healed all things, and Max knew that being together again would only help speed the process along.

Or so she'd hoped. His… feelings were heavy. His stressors, his emotions… They'd all sat squarely on her shoulders in that tub, so dense that they could drag her under and she'd never resurface. Max wasn't sure how Loki carried all of them on his own, but she vowed that that practice would stop now that she was with him again.

He'd filled her dreams with his stories. Well, as she lay against him, she couldn't be sure if they were dreams or nightmares. There was a lot of darkness to them. Angry eyes and aching bodies. The longer she was awake, the more quickly she forgot the content of the dreams—nightmares. All she knew was that she awoke with an uneasy feeling, pushed further by her momentary panic over forgetting she was no longer at home.

Loki's bed stretched on forever. It was bigger than a king-sized mattress certainly—sleeping on a twin in Masonville the first time they met must have been torture for him. He shifted down suddenly, tenderly lifting her and setting her back down so that her head rested on his chest. Max rubbed her eyes, yawned, then sat up. Chin on her hands, hands on his chest, she smiled at him, an expression he readily returned.

"I've missed waking up with you," she told him, her head tilting into his hand when he reached forward and tucked some hair behind her ear. It was nice to see him so relaxed. He'd been almost frenzied yesterday with her, acting out the feelings inside her with more confidence than she could ever have. Today he was calm. Mellow. For now, anyway. His smile looked effortless—beautiful.

"Me too." He touched the tip of her nose with his finger. "I should have gone to you the moment the fighting finished."

"Well, you _were_ the one with the ability to go between realms… not me," she said with a sigh, and she giggled when he gathered her up and pulled her closer. They kissed briefly. It was no more than a lingering peck, their lips closed and his arms wrapped around her. Max cupped his chin, unable to keep from smiling. This was what she'd wanted whenever she thought of a reunion with Loki. She hadn't seen grand adventures like the ones they'd had in Manhattan: Max wanted the ordinary. She wanted to wake up beside him. She wanted to cook breakfast with him. She wanted to fight over the remote.

Her stomach rumbled intrusively, spoiling the moment with noisy gurgles. Loki chuckled, warm puffs of air hitting her face, and she pulled back with rosy cheeks.

"So, I'm… kind of hungry." He raised an eyebrow at her, clearly seeing through her downplaying of the issue. She hadn't noticed it until now, but her stomach was about as empty as it could be, and she had a sinking suspicion that if she got up and moved around for too long, she'd pass out. "I could… maybe do with some breakfast."

"That can be readily arranged," he told her after another quick kiss. "I should have thought…"

"I should have said something sooner," she countered, sitting up and scratching at her head. "What's a typical Asgardian breakfast, anyway?"

His eyes fixed on her as she scooted to the end of the bed and slowly stood. Sure enough, she was a little lightheaded, but she was sure she'd survive a trip to the bathroom. Her quick glance back at him prompted an answer.

"Fruits, porridge… Nothing too extraordinary, I assure you."

"Sounds yummy," she told him with a grin, then tip-toed across the grey stone toward the bathroom.

The room was just as pathetic now as it was last night, only now she was too hungry to care that she had to squat over a hole in the ground to do her business. As she did, she couldn't help but wonder if this was a standard fixture throughout the whole city, or if Loki was just lacking in adequate toilet facilities. After all, Thor had told her that Loki chose this room himself when they were too old to share a bedroom anymore. Maybe it had never had much in the way of a toilet, and a teenage boy was _not_ going to care about this kind of stuff. Nolan probably would have peed over the side of the tower when he was younger, given what a classy teen he'd been. She smirked at the thought.

The water jug next to the marble basin seemed charmed to replenish itself automatically once emptied; she was able to wash her hands, gargle some water, and sprinkle her face, and when she was finished, the thing was full again. Hmm. Almost like running water.

She ducked back behind the door when she heard voices on the other side, but a quick peek around the thick wood divider showed Loki speaking to someone on the other side of his bedroom door. They were still alone in the spacious bedroom—alone and yet not. She waited until he nodded a few times, dispensing with whoever he was speaking to before gently shutting the door.

"Breakfast has been ordered," he told her as she shuffled sheepishly out of the bathroom, her arms crossed over her chest. She grinned, her stomach giving a victorious rumble, then climbed back under the covers. Sitting cross-legged, Max watched him prowl toward her, seeming so natural in his environment, his small kingdom.

"Is it actually breakfast?" she asked, the bed dipping down as he settled down beside her. His reply was a small one-shouldered shrug, his smile relaxed.

"Sort of."

"Don't let me sleep in anymore," Max instructed. She dropped the blanket and set her hand to rest on his leg. "I want to make the most of all the time I have before summer ends… on Earth."

The words tasted funny on her mouth as she said them, and she licked her lips, wondering if she'd ever get used to the fact that she was visiting her boyfriend on a whole different planet. Was Asgard a planet? She'd only ever heard it referred to as a "realm" before.

Loki smoothed his hand over hers, then snatched it up to bring to his lips. However, rather than kissing it, he seemed to be studying it carefully. Cautiously. His eyebrows furrowed.

"Do you still have it?"

She shook her head a little. "It?"

Thankfully, what "it" was quickly came to her, and she pulled her hand away, shooting him a smile.

"Of course I still have it," Max said, sliding off the bed and moving over to her bag. She crouched beside it, half-wondering if she should put some clothes on. No. That could wait. Loki sat at the edge of the bed, slightly tensed, and she wanted to put him out of his misery. Moments later, she retrieved the necklace she wore almost every day around her neck, on which hung the ring he made her. He let out a long sigh when she stood and showed him, his shoulders rolling forward.

"There it is." His tone was almost thoughtful sounding, a little on the distant side. She held it to her as she rejoined him on the bed.

"I used to take it off when I was working with artefacts at the museum," she told him, fiddling with the silver chain, "but then I was scared I'd misplace it, so I just wear it as a necklace now."

"Perhaps I should have made you one of those instead."

Max leaned in and kissed his cheek. "No, I prefer a ring. I mean, I guess I don't need to wear it like this anymore… Teaching doesn't exactly require much hands-on work. Unless someone misbehaves, then—"

"You're teaching?" She wasn't sure if it should bother her that he looked so surprised, almost skeptical. Lips pursed, she playfully swatted at his arm.

"Don't look so stunned," she snapped, half-serious in her chastisement. "I'm not terrible at it."

He caught her hand before she got him again, taking the necklace from it and bringing her palm to his lips.

"I don't mean anything by it," he told her, setting her hand on his leg. She watched his nimble fingers undo the tiny clasp, then slide the ring off the thin silver chain. "I just… I never thought you'd want to teach again after working with students previously."

She drew in a deep breath, definitely too hungry and unfocused to analyze her past and future career aspirations. "I don't know. It pays the bills. It got me out of New York and brought me closer to Nolie. It'll do for now."

They dropped the subject when he delicately slid the ring back on her finger, both in quiet awe as they admired it in its rightful place. Her lips curved upward.

"Back where it belongs," she mused, wiggling her fingers. She held out her other hand, into which Loki dropped her chain, and then moved to put it back in her bag. This time, she grabbed one of her baggy sweaters and pulled it on, almost wishing she'd just pulled Loki's off. She always liked wearing his shirts, especially for lazy days in bed.

While she was there, she grabbed a packet of birth control out and quickly popped a pill.

"What was that?"

"Oh, I have like four years' worth of birth control with me," she told him, the number slightly exaggerated. She tossed the packet back in her bag and strolled toward him. "I think the pharmacist thought I was selling this stuff when I picked it all up."

Loki extended his arms toward her, and Max fell into them without a moment's hesitation. They kissed lazily on the bed until food arrived, and while Loki tried his best to keep the servants outside, Max was too hungry to wait. She ducked under his arm to help carry the various plates in, thanking the plain-robed pair of male servants on the other side of the door. She arranged the various plates and bowls on the thick edge of the circular fire pit by his bookshelves, plopping down into one of the chairs to assess the situation. True to his word, there were various fruits, some almost familiar to the ones she was accustomed, and several different bowls of porridge-esque goop.

Oh, and tea. She was a little surprised at the hot kettle that smelled like mint leaves. Too hungry to wait for him to explain anything, Max snatched the empty brown plate from his hands and started to load it up.

"I thought I might take you on a tour of the palace today," he told her as she spooned some of the goop into her mouth. She closed her eyes. Delicious, delicious goop. "Show you… where I was raised."

She nodded, swallowing her mouthful and easing back into her chair. Would he judge her if she ate the entire spread of food all on her own?

"That sounds amazing," she said, pacing herself. Reminding herself to breathe between mouthfuls. Despite her instant love for the food, she was genuinely excited to have him show her around. After all, he'd seen her childhood home—Max had always wondered what it would be like to switch places, to let him take the lead in unfamiliar terrain. "As long as I'm with you, I don't care what we do…"

Loki perched on the edge of the chair, watching her contentedly for a moment, then moved to pour himself a small cup of tea. Max, meanwhile, continued shoveling food into her mouth like the elegant woman she was, all the while wondering what she would have been doing at home right now. What was the Earth-Asgardian time difference?

Hmm. A strange feeling descended upon her, but it was quickly brushed aside with the ever-growing excitement over their plans for the day. Home could sit on the backburner for now. She had a fucking _palace_ to explore.

* * *

><p>She was so beautiful. Whether her hair was long or short, Loki loved her all the same. Some of her features had aged since they last saw one another. Her body, once lean with hints of curvature, had started to retain weight around her hips and thighs. Her nails were well-kept, a chore she'd rarely seen to when they were last together. Her eyes held the beginnings of wisdom in them. She'd aged. Two Midgardian years had slipped by in his absence, and she had aged.<p>

Two years closer to a swift death. Two years closer to the human decay of time. Loki snatched her hand as they approached the main level of the palace, with its grand feasting halls and trading corners and libraries. She smiled up at him, the skin around her eyes crinkling a little, and he stole a quick kiss before they faced the usual hustle and bustle of palace affairs. Merchants, nobles, warriors, handmaidens… They all scuttled about, always making way for royalty.

To some, Loki was still royalty. To others, he was a marked man, a ticking bomb. He was to be watched but not respected, deferred to but not requested. He was the court enigma once more, and he supposed he could have done something to put a stop to that stereotype. He could have smiled more at feasts, gorged himself on more ale. He could have made more public appearances. He could have stood beside Odin at meetings. He could have tried, somehow, to reconnect with the Warriors Three.

But he'd done none of those things. Not since she died. No, Loki had a new persona to play, one that ate away at the All-father while also drawing in the lesser lords.

"Is this… public property?" Max asked as they stood in the grand entryway. A squadron of gold-plated guards swept by, though no eyes darted his way. They knew better, though Loki was sure they were curious about the little woman standing at his side. Those outside of palace security, those unbeholden to Odin in such a manner, stared in fleeting intervals, and Loki tightened his grip on her hand. He smiled when she looked up at him.

"Yes and no," he said, stepping down the last stair and tugging her with him. She came to his side quickly, willingly, and he knew she wanted nothing more than to wrap her arms around him and never let go. He could see it in her eyes. "During the daylight hours, most of the lower levels are open to the public. Many come to trade their goods, seek counsel with the lords, ask favours of Odin…"

Her lips twitched at the All-father's name. He'd told her his own version of his relationship with Odin, and he saw the tension in her shoulders when she heard him speak the word. She had to know that not everyone yearned for a connection with a parent, adoptive or otherwise. His relationship with the All-father had plummeted steeply during the conquering and pacifying of the Nine Realms. Loki had wanted an army. He knew he could lead one—he had the strategy and the fire from his time on Earth fuelling him.

But Odin said no. Just like that, the small connection they had, the tether that aligned them as father and son, severed. Loki turned to strategizing, standing opposite Odin at the grand table and pushing figurines around to represent troop movements. Again, the All-father had rebuffed him. For all the penance he'd served, for all the torture he'd endured, Loki was still the same little boy in the All-father's eyes, and even before Frigga was murdered, Loki had realized that would never change.

He wished he could have felt something beyond rage over that. When he thought of Frigga, his head swirled and his heart broke. He longed so desperately to bring her back, to pull her down from the stars and breathe life back into her. But not Odin. While Frigga's memory was marred by darkness and bleakness and the swirling abyss of misery, Loki saw blinding hot rage whenever he thought of Odin. Odin the Weak. Odin the Old.

Odin the Would-Be King. Frigga's death had touched the old man too, but rather than bringing them together in mourning, Loki found it pushed them apart. Their anger festered, a continuous open wound. Loki saw the cracks around the old fool. He heard the poor decisions. He witnessed the breakdown of Asgard's king, too old and stubborn to pass on his title.

Perhaps because Odin knew Thor no longer desired it. No, Thor had fallen in love with Earth much harder than Loki had, and he'd watched his brother inch away from the affairs of the state once the fighting stopped. A father figure who could not rule, and a brother who did not desire to.

And then there was Loki, the one no one wanted on a throne.

Well, not no one. As Loki led Max out into the hall, pointing out buyers and sellers, lords and ladies, he noticed a few of his new associates incline their heads toward him. The lesser lords. The younger, weaker warriors. The unsuccessful power seekers. He'd made friends with them all since Odin banished him from the war room some time ago. Loki had learned that solidarity no longer did him any favours.

When a few of them inched forward, he brushed them off with nothing more than a look. Not today. Not now. They retreated from him immediately, going about their business as though the interaction had never happened. Max didn't deserve to listen to their sniveling. He wanted her untouched by his plots, by his schemes. Well, as untouched as possible, anyway.

"So there are different levels of servant?" Max inquired. Her brown eyes flitted between a lady's attendant and the kitchen wench. One stood faithfully behind her mistress, silent and observant as the ostentatious lady—her hair styled like Frigga's—laughed with a friend. The kitchen wench, in plainer robes and sensible shoes, scuttled through the hall with an immense jar in her hands, making no effort to look at anyone.

"Different duties," he told her, pointing out the differences between attendant and wench. "There is, of course, a working hierarchy among the servants that I'm sure you will notice the longer you observe them."

"Is it… a class system?" She seemed to struggle to wrap her mind about the servants, and he supposed he couldn't blame her. Max's family were far from the elite, even by Earth's standards. He could understand her discomfort with people preparing her bath and cooking her food, but he assumed she would grow accustomed to it eventually. The longer she stayed, the more normal it would seem.

"In some circumstances, yes." He noticed her jaw clench. "Some are in more subservient roles because they are being punished… A year in the palace kitchens for a noble girl who disobeyed her parents is better than a whipping or public flogging."

"_What_?!"

"A rare happenstance, I assure you," he insisted, smirking at the way the example brought some colour to her cheeks. His innocent love, untouched by the cruelties of this universe. The era she was born into was cushy—soft. "Most of the servants are lower and middle-class individuals who fought for gainful employment here. People fight one another to work in the royal palace. Many take any position they can get."

She was quiet for a moment, lips pressed tightly together as she watched Asgardians move to and fro, many of them in turn watching her from a respectable distance. It was strange not to be the object of their staring, though Loki was sure many an eye wandered down to their clasped hands, then up to Loki. The whispers would start. Thor faced enough scrutiny for bringing a human to Asgard, and now Loki had seemingly done the same.

The peasants would spit out their names when the story reached them. Humans in Asgard—the horror.

He'd yet to give much serious thought into why Max was actually here. He'd been too swept up in the moment of seeing her again. For a few hours, his heart felt whole. He'd been happy for the first time in… well, a long time. A part of him hoped her presence was, indeed, a surprise from Thor. He'd watched his brother eye him with concern lately, though it was clear that Thor hadn't worked up the nerve to approach him about his melancholy yet. Perhaps bringing Max here was Thor's way of telling him that he understood Loki's loss—and his pain.

But he couldn't help wondering if there were more sinister motives to her sudden appearance in Asgard. Odin barely let Jane stay the last time, and yet he had happily sanctioned the stay of _two_ humans for an indeterminate amount of time? Ha. Unlikely.

For now, he decided he wouldn't question it. As she stood beside him, clad in a baggy black sweater and a pair of her tight dark blue jeans, she was perfection personified. Sometimes it was in his best interest not to question perfection until absolutely necessary.

Still, it was hard to shake suspicion, especially in Asgard. The only thing he knew for certain was that should there be a darker plot afoot, Max would have nothing to do with it. The sheer glee that radiated from her, and continued to do so, when they were reunited would have been impossible to fake. Max wasn't an especially talented actress, and unless she'd developed the skill during their hiatus, she wouldn't be able to hide her feelings from him.

She'd kept secrets from him before, of course, but she loved him. She still loved him, hopefully as desperately as he loved her. She wore the ring proudly, in public. Although, she didn't know that the finger she wore it on symbolized her devotion to Loki to all onlookers. She didn't need to know. They hadn't talked about many things since she arrived, preferring to reunite physically it seemed first and foremost, but he knew she wouldn't be pleased that he'd taken it upon himself to display her as his intended… woman.

There was so much to show her in the palace. Secret rooms that only the royal family knew of. The vast underground kitchens. The armory. The feasting halls. The throne room. So much to cover, and Max had a thousand questions for every ten feet they moved. She was excited—he could see if in her eyes. Her cheeks were flushed a dull pink, perhaps from the climate, as she pointed every which way, demanding an explanation for a certain statue or a different sort of armor on a particular guard.

Max hung on his every word. It had been a long time since someone who mattered did that. He threw his shoulders back as they strolled out of the main hall and toward some of the gardens. She would appreciate nature.

Loki stopped, however, when he spied Thor and his woman. They'd already set themselves up on a grassy hill in one of the courtyards, surrounded by Jane's scientific instruments. His brother sat on the grass, leaning back on his elbows, a gentle smile on his lips as he watched the woman pace. She had a thin journal in hand, and seemed to be taking notes on something. Her eyebrows furrowed in concentration. Max made a move toward that setting, her lips peeling back into a smile, and Loki heard her draw a breath to greet them.

It was then that he pulled her away. He had no interest in socializing with Jane Foster, nor did he want to waste what precious time he had with Max by talking about the mundane with Thor. No, there would be enough of that over meal times and whatever other outings they went on together. He wasn't naïve enough to think he could keep Max to himself. She may have aged, and the ripples age would bring to her personality were yet to be seen, but he assumed she was still a much more social creature than Loki would ever be.

"Let's not interrupt," he suggested, gently leading her away from the scene. She seemed happy to comply, adjusting her grasp on his hand as they went. "We can explore the gardens anytime."

"I can't believe I'm here…" She let out a long breath, and in a certain light, he wondered if he saw her eyes glistening. "It doesn't feel real… It's like I'm asleep somewhere else, and I'll wake up and you… it'll all be gone."

"Oh, come now…" He couldn't help but laugh. For a few fleeting seconds, she sounded absolutely miserable, even with a smile on her face. There, in the vacant hallway between the gardens and the library, he pulled his hand from hers and wrapped it around her shoulders instead. She looped her arm around him too, then nestled against him. He was thankful he'd forgone his armored wardrobe as of late: it was easier to feel her with nothing but fabric between them.

"I know, I know," she said, shaking her head and wiping under her eyes. "It's a silly thought. I mean, I just got here."

"Don't tell me you're thinking about leaving already?"

She collected herself with a small huff, drawing her body up to its full height before tilting her chin toward his face. Their eyes met. "Farthest thing from my mind."

"Good." His gaze lingered on her face just a moment too long, and she cleared her throat when a trio of young serving girls scuttled out of the library and hurried passed them, their heads bowed.

Why couldn't they have spent the day in bed? Touring the palace had been _his_ suggestion, yes, but now that they were out there and surrounded by all these… _people_ who cluttered Loki's life day in and day out, he wished they weren't.

They made a pit-stop in the library, where Max stood in awe for a great many minutes, her mouth hanging open in a way that would have been obnoxious on anyone else. The library was a stunning feature, a place he'd hidden away in as a boy whenever Thor and his friends weren't feeling particularly inclusive.

Gold archways, hundreds of mammoth shelves housing thousands upon thousands of tomes. No one patrolled the area. There was no sinewy caretaker to shout and chastise for mishandling of the precious books. This library had always run on an honour system: take out a book, but bring it back so that all could enjoy it. As far as he knew, a dedicated group of servants saw to the preservation of some of the more ancient texts, and Max seemed most interested in meeting them.

"Perhaps later," he told her when they spied the gaggle of brown-cloaked servants bickering over the placement of a few texts. Max giggled and let him tug her through the rows, listening intently as he listed his favourite sections and showed her where the most comfortable reading chairs could be found.

She was delighted with everything. Max brought with her this giddiness, this infectious positivity that had him sporting a genuine smile. A few familiar faces eyed him suspiciously when they crossed paths, but Loki paid them no mind. All that mattered in the entire realm—even if it was just for a single day—were Max and Loki. Everyone else was a speck of dust, a whisper in the wind. Insignificant.

They left the library once he'd exhausted every avenue of it, then climbed a few floors up. Max followed, a little breathless, and stood in front of them as they overlooked the eastern shores from a window. He pointed to the mountains and the trees, promising to take her there soon.

"It kind of reminds me of Vermont," she told him, his face buried in her neck, inhaling her—all of her, drawing her in and forging her scent into his memory. He'd hold it there for an eternity. "All the greenery… The pines…"

"In a way, I suppose," he murmured against her skin. She squirmed, perhaps tickled by his breath, and let out a soft laugh.

"Well, it's much nicer than anything I've seen in Vermont," Max continued, stroking her hands over his arms as he encircled them around her. Back to chest, they stood like that for some time, admiring the countryside beyond the palace. To the west lay the sprawling cityscape, somewhere Thor would undoubtedly wish to traverse through as a group. "But it just… reminds me of home. It's nice."

He rumbled his agreement, the sound bouncing around his throat. _She_ reminded him of home. It was also nice.

When they'd admired the landscape for as long as possible, Loki decided to share something very personal with her—a room that was at the very base of his being. Frigga's study was nearby, and perhaps now was the time to share with her the passing of his adopted mother. She'd been murdered—murdered protecting _Jane_ from the dark elves.

Sacrificed. Frigga had given her life to keep a human—Jane, of all people—safe.

What a waste.

He wasn't sure why he hadn't told Max that she'd died when he'd regaled her with tales of dark elves and Aether. Maybe, deep down, he knew it would stir something horrible in him, something he wasn't ready for her to see. Was he ready now? His feet seemed to think so. They moved him along, one falling right after the other, until they were in the same airy open corridor he'd raced down as a child. Down that corridor sat the cosy room where Frigga had taught him magic. He'd sat there with his books and journals, watching as she repaired Odin's armor, brewed draughts for the infirmary, and occasionally painted art—all of her works were littered through the palace, strung up by Odin, proud as ever for the display.

His steps grew heavy now, and Max slowed at his side. He felt her questioning eyes dart up to him. What could he say about the next room on their tour? How does one succinctly sum up a lifetime of memories into a few words?

Loki looked up sharply when he heard the rhythm of familiar footfalls. They came from the opposite direction, from the corridors that branched out to battle councils and negotiating tables.

For now, it seemed, he was not alone on his quest to visit Frigga's study. His eyes narrowed. The old fool usually skulked around there at night. How brazen for him to weep during the day.

Odin too came to a halt when he realized he was not alone in the hallway, his thick hands curling into fists. Everyone had seen one another at this point, and whoever turned back first would lose. Loki bit down hard on the insides of his cheeks, Odin's words mere whispers in his head. They always crawled forth when he saw the old king, words of failings and betrayals and lies.

Max pulled her hand from his somewhat, and he realized he must have been crushing the appendage. He shot her an apologetic smile, letting her shove it in her pocket rather than gather it to him, and then gestured to Odin.

"My father," he said stiffly. Her eyes followed his point, her brows furrowed. By now, she knew Odin was not his _real_ father, but she was unaware of the kind of creature Loki's real father was. Laufey was dead anyway, and Loki had decided he'd rather be an adopted child than an abandoned orphan.

For the time being, anyway.

Loki stepped forth first, bringing Max with him, and stopped at an appropriate distance. Max kept slightly behind him, her hand resting on his lower back.

"Max Wright," he said after a tense moment. "May I present Odin Borson, King of Asgard and all the Nine Realms. All-father to all."

"Hi." Her voice was soft, non-confrontational almost, and he saw Odin's lips twitch in response. "Nice to meet you… sire."

"All-father will do," Loki corrected, chuckling a little as he brought her forward. "This is the man responsible for sending me to Earth in the first place… _Why_ he chose Masonville, I'll never know."

"Well, I'm glad you did," she said, her tentative smile growing, "even if he wasn't very happy about it."

Then, much to Loki's surprise, Odin gave her a gentle look, one reserved for especially nervous serving girls and chambermaids. It was almost a pitying look, and his jaw clenched in response.

"Thank you for keeping my boy out of trouble." Max seemed to glow at what could have been perceived as praise, but Loki knew better. "He can be quite the handful."

She shrugged. "He's okay, I guess."

Loki's hand found a spot on the back of her neck, and he tried to keep the touch as light as possible. Oh Odin. Let him speak of Loki as if he were still a petulant child—his underestimation of Loki's growth would, in the end, be his undoing. Loki forced a smile as his two worlds collided, then started to move her forward.

"If you'll excuse us, _father_," he sneered, keeping a smile that would probably never reach his eyes again plastered across his lips, "I was just about to show my sweet lady the throne room."

His eyebrow flicked up slightly as Odin's gaze narrowed upon him, but he kept moving without another word. Max stumbled a little at his quick pace, and she tried her best to get something along the lines of, "It was nice meeting you!" out before they were out of earshot.

Ha. The throne room. Let him mull over that in front of Frigga's old hearth. Let him think Loki still only desired a throne for selfish purposes. Surely an old dog knew when the end was near.

"He doesn't seem… terrible," Max offered as they rounded a corner, and Loki finally slowed his pace when he realized she had started panting.

"The introduction could have gone worse, I suppose," he said, wrapping an arm around her. "I can't say he particularly enjoys human company, however, so don't expect to have any meaningful conversations with him."

"Oh."

Hmm. His dig at Odin seemed to be taken more as a slight toward Max. He kissed her temple, then her cheek, then her neck, and her giggles were proof enough that he'd distracted her from dwelling on the comment.

"After the throne room," he purred, mentally calculating the route to take that would keep them away from the palace's population, "there are some royal saunas only my family is privy to… Perhaps we could may them a visit. Relive our last venture into a sauna…"

Her cheeks tinted noticeably at the memory, and Loki's lips curved upward too at the thought. Of all their couplings, their time in that hotel sauna, even without the heat, was one of his favourites.

"Lead the way, royal boyfriend," she teased, and it took every ounce of resistance not to sweep her into his arms. Over his shoulder, he realized Odin had trailed after them somewhat, watching them leave at the corner of the two corridors. Loki smirked as he stared back, all the while knowing he'd given the old man plenty to worry over for one day.

And, perhaps, enough for a lifetime too.

* * *

><p><strong>AUTHOR'S NOTES:<strong>

**Hello darlings! **

**So, as I mentioned, I'm headed for surgery tomorrow. Thanks to everyone who wished me luck and whatnot in your last reviews. I really appreciate it! I'm kind of nervous, and spending the day making soups so I have sad food to eat in the aftermath. Fun. **

**As a treat to myself, I'm not going to read any of reviews until Wednesday. I usually obsessive read each review as soon as I get it, usually multiple times, mull the words over, consider things… But no. To those of you who leave feedback, THANK YOU, and your words are going to make me feel less crappy during my recovery over the next week. **

**Anyway. We got our first look into Loki's head with this chapter, and I just… I'm so excited to write him in this capacity. He's going to be different from both stories previously, maybe a little bit of a combination. There's darkness and despair, but there's focus and obsession. It's just… I'm so amped. **

**His relationships with Thor and Odin are particularly interesting to me. I know there's a lot of Odin hate in the reviews so far, but we'll see where things go from here. People expected him to be a full outward dick to Max, and given the circumstances that they are meeting under, I just didn't see that happening. After all, she's there to calm Loki down. Wouldn't serve Odin to be a dick to her and piss Loki off further. He's already a paranoid guy. **

**Also, Max is the oldest OC I've ever written at this point (excluding a few old stories that I like to ignore). Even in my freelance stuff, the characters (female love interests, generally) are usually in their twenties. Thirty officially beaks the barrier, and it's been mentioned by a reviewer at one point, but she has lots of new considerations at this point in her life. It's not just casual college fun anymore. By societal standards, she's getting on in age. So, as excited as I am to write Loki, I'm equally excited to write Max at this stage in her life. **

**Right. I'm off to make soups and pick up medications and clean my apartment. Lots to do! I'm going to spend the week in recovery, and then, hopefully, next week I'll be back to a semi-regular writing schedule. Everything, freelance works included, is on hold until I'm feeling better. **

**YOU'RE ALL AMAZING. I CAN'T WAIT TO WRITE THE NEXT UPDATE. I can't wait to write this whole story. It's going to be a whirlwind. **


	4. Magic, madness, heaven sin

"I don't think you're going to be warm enough."

Max looked down at her outfit, fingering the fleecy jumper she'd thrown over a long-sleeved shirt. She definitely hadn't packed for anything more than a mild wintery stay in Asgard: her whole wardrobe had deteriorated since moving to Virginia, and the majority of her "winter" garb consisted of thick fall sweaters and a single jacket. More snow had gathered on the clear window panes over Loki's room, and since they were spending the day outdoors, his concern was justified.

"We could leave some blankets in the… boat… thing," she offered, wanting to say "car" but knowing that it wasn't the right word for their transportation. "Or you could make my sweater a little thicker?"

Seated in one of the wide-set black chairs around his personal hearth, Loki stared at her, one leg crossed over the other, and she caught the way his jaw clenched. After exploring the castle the day before, they'd had dinner with Jane and Thor in the outdoor gardens. Jane had almost altered her entire outfit to look Asgardian, right down to the gold clasps that kept her hair out of her face. When Loki had asked if Max would like him to change some of her clothes in a similar fashion, she'd been a little too quick to shoot down the idea. She wanted to wear _her_ clothes. Her comfortable, worn-in, home-smelling clothes.

She wasn't ready to shirk them yet for a thick dress and an armored breastplate. It was only day two.

"Come here," he said, beckoning her over with a crooked finger. Smiling, Max sauntered toward him, acutely aware of the way his eyes followed the sway of her body with each step. It would have been easy to spend the day in bed: she'd been reluctant to leave its warmth that morning, and Loki hadn't wanted to let her go either. But she couldn't waste her entire holiday lounging naked beside Loki, as much as she wanted to. There was a whole world out there, and today Thor had offered to lead Jane and Max on a tour of the nearby downtown core.

Loki had been less than enthusiastic about the idea, and had seemed even less impressed when Thor hinted he could tag along if he was so inclined. Max had just assumed he would be there. In fact, she assumed _Loki_ would be the one to show her everything. He'd done such a fine job showing her the hidden features of the sprawling royal palace, right down to the private saunas underground, so it only seemed natural to her that he'd want to show her his whole world.

But apparently that wasn't the case. He'd been a little surly ever since she agreed to Thor's guided tour, but she didn't have it in her to humour him. Max was in Asgard. She'd left her home, her life, and her family to spend all the free time she had with Loki, and she wasn't going to coddle him just because Thor planned to do something with her. Max wanted to see it all with Loki by her side, and she had hoped he'd feel the same way. As long as they were together, she was happy doing just about anything with anyone.

Once she was near enough, Loki grabbed her wrists and tugged her toward him. She let out a surprised gasp, her smile growing, and stood between his now parted knees. With his large hands still clasped around her arms, he closed his eyes, and Max inhaled sharply as a warm sensation trickled throughout her arms. It traveled up and across her shoulders, then plummeted straight down to her waist.

"There…" He let her go and leaned back, his eyes darting over every inch of her sweater. "That should keep you warm."

She ran her hand over the fabric, and while it looked like her normal beige jumper, it didn't feel like it anymore. The material was coarse, almost like fur or hair, and it scratched at her skin everywhere the shirt beneath didn't cover.

"Kind of itchy," she said, scratching at her collarbones. She then tugged the grey long-sleeved shirt underneath up as best she could in an attempt to protect her skin. "What did you do?"

"I altered the material," he told her. "It's a blend of ox, elk, and deer fur. Much warmer than what you had before."

Her hands dropped to her side, unsure of how to feel now that she was wearing actual fur. "Oh."

"The combination will keep the wind out," Loki insisted, an eyebrow flickering up as he observed her. "My mother used to stitch pelts together when I was young… They were excellent blankets for the winter months."

She hesitantly touched the fabric again, but kept a keen eye on Loki. He looked down and swallowed hard, noticeably so, then opened his mouth as if to say more before falling silent. Something had happened with his mother. He'd barely mentioned her since Max arrived, and before she was the only person in his family who had warranted a mention in his stories back on Earth. She'd met Odin yesterday, a man Loki had palpable tension with, and yet there had been nothing said of his mom.

As she'd drifted to sleep last night, she'd began to slowly piece together the bits and bobs of his stories. His mother was a key figure in his life, but now it was like she didn't exist. It was obvious something had happened, but she wouldn't pry. Some wounds were best left untouched until they healed, and she could wait until he told her what had happened.

After all, she owed him a similar story sometime soon too. It was all about finding the right moment, and now, as they got ready for a day in the city, probably wasn't the right time.

"I'll get used to it, I bet," she said after a moment's pause, smiling again when he looked up. After all, it was probably just the stitching that was itching her, and she had a scarf she could stuff between that and her skin. Solutions. There were always answers to the littlest problems. "Thank you."

He nodded, then pointed down to her boots. "Will those be suitable for the wet?"

"_Those_ are fine," she snapped, stepping back and lifting her leg to show off half of the pair. "They're air-tight and super comfortable."

And a little ugly, but Max hadn't been picky at the time of purchase. They doubled as her rain boots in the cooler season back home, and had served her well thus far.

"Are you sure you don't want me to tinker with them?"

"You've tinkered enough, magic man," she teased, taking his hand in both of hers. "Let's go."

There were no clocks in Loki's room, which made her adjustment to Asgard's time a little more difficult. She was tired in the later afternoons and wide awake at the darkest hour of the evening, but he assured her body would adapt soon. With all the grey cloud cover, it was even harder to gauge the time of day, but Loki had already told her Thor and Jane would be waiting for them in the hall below—and she didn't want to make anyone wait just because she'd done an inadequate packing job.

No amount of tugging could get Loki off the couch if he didn't want to move. Luckily, he still liked to humour her in the way he always had, and it only took her a few pointed pulls to get him standing.

"Smile," she ordered as she released his hand and used her fingers to push his lips upward. "I'm really excited about today. Don't be a grump."

"I'm hardly that," he muttered as he gathered her hands and brought them to his chest. Max held his gaze, her stare even and skeptical, and he exhaled softly with a slight roll of his eyes. "All right, all right. I'm sorry. I don't venture into the city often… My reputation is still shaky, given my past behaviour."

"Well, no time like the present to prove everyone wrong, right?" She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively, and he finally broke out in an amused grin. "Come on… I want to get the day started."

The day _had_ started, of course. She'd awoken to Loki's hands roaming her body, and she was surprised the whole palace hadn't heard them in the events that followed. Then they had breakfast around his hearth again, a small fire crackling as she'd put her feet up on the stones to warm her toes. The day had certainly begun, but Max was ready for something outside the four walls of Loki's bedroom.

Loki slung an arm around her shoulders as they made their way toward the door, then chuckled when she scolded him for messing up her hair when he planted a firm kiss on the side of her head. She'd only recently learned how to make a successful braid, and she'd spent some time that morning weaving a braid-crown around her head to keep her messy hair under wraps. Unfortunately, Loki had nothing in his room even remotely close to a mirror, which meant she'd done the whole thing blind. At this point, she could only assume it looked wretched, but she didn't need him making it worse.

Whatever. At least her hair was up and off her face.

"It looks fine," he insisted, twirling some of the loose clumps of hair around his finger. "Women braid flowers in their hair like that for some of our festivals."

"Maybe my unromantic boyfriend should get me some flowers then," she said as they cleared the doorway, and she wriggled out of his grasp with a giggle when he pursed his lips at her. Her laughter then echoed down the stairwell when he gave chase, playful and lighthearted and innocent until they approached the final few steps. The voices in the hall, as loud and chaotic as they were yesterday, sobered them both, and their game ended before anyone could see them.

Max was surprised to find the royal palace so busy, so full of people who _weren't _royals by any stretch. She still couldn't tell the varying levels of social standing apart, but as she scanned the clusters of Asgardians, she thought it was safe to assume the more ostentatious the clothing, the wealthier the person. Loki spoiled that theory somewhat: he was classified still as a prince, and yet he wore mute, dark colours, his outfit almost as plain as hers. So far, she'd seen him in the same slacks and shirt, the only difference being the colours: greys, black, dark greens.

Like yesterday, dozens of eyes flickered in her direction once they stepped off the staircase. They all must have deduced who she was at this point, because there were no other doors along the stairs aside from Loki's room at the top. Obviously she was staying with him. Obviously she was the object of his affections. It shouldn't surprise her, given the way people on Earth obsessed over royal families, that she was the center of attention, but that still didn't make her any more comfortable.

Luckily, she didn't need to linger in the spotlight for long. Loki spotted Thor and Jane across the great hall, standing near the entrance where she'd first arrived, and they made a beeline for the couple. With her hand clasped in his, Max could feel some of Loki's tension. It traveled down his arm and into her fingertips, all dark and tingly and thick. She shot him a small smile, one he returned, and she noticed his shoulders slump forward a little.

"Hey strangers," she said as she approached the duo, her smile growing for their benefits. "Fancy meeting you here."

"I've never been to the city before." Jane's excitement outweighed Loki's tension tenfold, and Max's stomach gave a giddy little twist in response. "I've only ever explored the palace."

It was then that Max noticed Thor had a small sac in his hand, and when he caught her studying it, he held it up with a smirk. "Jane wishes to make meticulous notes while we see the sights."

"It's a once in a lifetime opportunity," she snapped, a defensiveness flashing across her face. "I can carry everything—"

"I'm only teasing, Jane."

"Is everything prepared?" Loki's voice cut through the playfulness like a dull knife, and she stroked her thumb over the top of his hand. He glanced down at her briefly, then pulled his hand away and set it on her lower back, shifting her closer to him. "I want to make the most of the daytime markets."

The two brothers held one another's gazes for a moment, but Thor was the first to break away with a slight nod toward the mammoth doorway. "Everything is arranged. We can leave as soon as you're ready."

"We're ready," Max said quickly, cutting off Loki's remark and marching toward the door. Jane fell by her side and asked her opinion on what she'd seen so far. How could she summarize any of this in a few words? How could she take all the experiences she'd had in such a short time and give a coherent answer? So, she shrugged, her mouth opening and closing a few times, before saying, "Incredible."

Jane shot her a knowing look. "Isn't it?"

A familiar floating boat awaited them in the palace courtyard, and Max noted the few guards standing watch of it as people in plainer garments went about their business around them. She shot a brief look to Thor and Jane, noting that they looked like they belonged in the palace. While Loki blended into the background, Thor wore his armored attire well, his thick red cape draping to the floor and wrapping around him. Snowflakes collected on the bright fabric as soon as they stepped outside, and Max could see the faintest cloud of her breath fogging in front of her.

Jane had embraced Asgardian fashion wholeheartedly today, and nothing about her look was Earth-bound. She wore a brown dress, the colour clashing with Thor's cloak, with a warm looking white trench coat that practically swallowed her whole. A gold clasp shaped like a feather sat on either side of her head to keep her hair back, and she was completely make-up-less. The woman could easily slide in with any group in the entrance hall and look like she belonged, whereas Max stuck out like a sore thumb.

She brushed the snow off her jeans, then slipped her hands into a dainty pair of gloves she'd purchased just before leaving home. Despite the fact that it was snowing, it wasn't painfully cold outside. In fact, Max found she was quite comfortable in her outfit, though she was pleased Loki had altered her top. None of the gusts of cool air penetrated her jumper, though her jean-clad legs were starting to feel it a little.

"Are you warm enough?" Loki asked as Thor helped Jane into the boat. She spied a stack of blankets near the seats, and gave him a curt nod. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," she stressed, shooting him a look that lacked annoyance but expressed her point. "I'm fine."

"I just want to make sure you're comfortable."

"I could say the same of you," she said, tugging on the thin shirt he wore. "Aren't you going to be cold?"

She noticed his jaw clench again, catching the way it flared for a moment, as he bit down on his back teeth. It was a new tick, one she hadn't noticed before, but one she was determined to ignore. His tongue swept across his lips before he spoke.

"I'm adjusted to the cold," he told her, his voice low. "Always have been."

"Except when you were a human," she countered with a grin, hoping to draw one out of him. She was marginally successful, and she poked at his side. "Well, just let me know if you get cold… I can think of a few ways to warm you up."

That managed to get a smile back on his face. He pressed his palm to her cheek, the gesture intimate and affectionate enough to bring some colour to her skin, and then nodded to the boat. "Shall we?"

"We shall."

After Loki lifted her into the boat, she took a seat on the narrow bench beside Jane, then went for a blanket. Wrapping it over both of their legs, she shot the woman an excited smile, then gave a small squeal when the boat shot forward. Much to her surprise, Loki clambered around behind them and took control of the steering, and Thor sat next to the pile of blankets on the floor. Legs outstretched, the blond Asgardian seemed perfectly relaxed. She glanced over her shoulder, taking in Loki's stance, and decided this was the most confident he'd looked around others since she arrived.

So, apparently he liked to drive—that was also new. Jaw clenching and driving, huh? Max shuffled closer to Jane, enjoying their shared body heat as the wind chilled with the increased speed. She could take a bit of jaw clenching here and there, and now that she knew Loki enjoyed the drive, she'd ask him to take her out—alone, as that would probably make him happiest.

Her lips pursed at the thought.

"What have you been up to since we got here?"

The question prompted a lengthy monologue from Jane, during which she told Max about all the observations she'd made, all the data she'd collected. She was measuring the atmosphere, conducting observational studies on the people, and sketching all the architecture. As trees and buildings raced by, a blur of gold and green and brown, Max told her it sounded like she'd been keeping busy. Very busy. Productively busy. When Jane posed the same question to her, perhaps out of courtesy, Max opened her mouth with a smile, but no words came out.

She cleared her throat and gave a slight shake of her head. "We've… been keeping busy too."

Jane's eyebrows shot up, and aside from her uncomfortable grin, she offered no comment. Max turned her attention away, taking in the cityscape as their little hover boat whizzed along. Given the fact that she'd spent the last two days in a medieval-esque castle, she was pleasantly surprised at how modern the city looked. Once more, it was a splash of a futuristic modernity meshed with a rustic past. The buildings reminded her of Manhattan's skyscrapers, and yet there were still street stands of meats and cloth and other sellable goods.

"The merchants here would give their right arm to be selling in the castle," Thor explained as Loki brought the boat to a slow, gentle stop. It seemed they'd come to the end of their ride, and Max was eager to get her feet on the golden streets. "The castle is where serious trade is done, while this is more of a general market."

"So the rich do their buying in the castle?" Jane deduced. Max gathered up the blanket and folded it as Thor told her she was correct, then set it back on the pile. Thor was the first off, and he helped Jane and Max clamber off the hovering vehicle. Once they were clear, the boat stopped rumbling, and Max watched it settle on the ground. As Loki came to her side, Thor paid a few nearby merchants to keep an eye on their transportation while they were in the city.

"No parking lots anywhere, huh?" Loki looked down at her as she posed the question, then wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

"Not in the sense you're familiar with, no."

With their vehicle secured, the four set off by foot into the marketplace, which was even more chaotic than the palace trading spots. Most scrambled out of the way for Thor, and it was obvious that people had great reverence for their royalty.

Every sense was on overload. Fabrics looked more colourful than anything she'd ever seen. Her mouth watered at the scents of grilled meats. A perfume stand was especially popular with a pack of young girls, their cries of delight making Thor smile as they tested each bottle. If only the market was covered: it would have reminded her of the mall around Christmas time. Organized chaos at its finest. Loud. Intrusive. She could understand why Loki may not frequent the place often—it was hardly his scene.

Jane stopped frequently to take pictures and record information in her notebook, and Max half-wished she'd remembered to bring her camera. She'd never been very good at recording vacation memories, and found stopping to capture a moment took her out of the moment. Instead, she curved an arm around Loki's waist and asked the occasional question, which he seemed happy to answer.

He also seemed keen on buying her something. He took her to jewelers and tailors, prompting her opinion on various goods, none of them anything she'd actually wear. Clothes and jewels didn't interest her, especially when she was dating a guy who could alter her clothes on a whim. She was, however, distracted by a wooden stand that Loki said sold children's toys.

She probably could have guessed that, given the way a group of poorly dressed children hovered around the goods. The merchant, a burly man smoking a ridiculously long pipe, straightened up from behind his stand as soon as he spotted Loki approaching. Max cringed as he shooed the kids away, swatting at them and giving the slowest a solid kick.

"My lord," he said once they were near, bowing down. Some of the herbs from his pipe trickled out onto the ground, falling like fresh snow. "How may I be of service?"

He wasn't the first proprietor to trip over himself for Loki or Thor's attention. Her eyes darted around for their companions, and she couldn't hide her smile when she spotted Thor feeding Jane something steaming from a nearby food cart. Given the expression on her face, she wasn't overly impressed with the taste.

"You'll need to turn your attention to the lady," Loki remarked, his hand on her lower back as she surveyed the goods. None of the toys looked like typical children's toys, but all the other kids had seemed pretty interested in them.

"I thought I could get something for Nolie…" She nibbled her lower lip, feeling the eyes of the merchant on her—intensely so. "My niece is four. Do you have something for… someone her age?"

He stared at her for a moment, as if trying to process her question, then looked to Loki.

"Something for a young girl," Loki snapped, and his tone seemed to shock the man back to reality. He flinched, his lengthy beard twitching, and then offered the pair a smile.

"Of course. We have a range of products for the little ones."

He beckoned them forward, then stooped down quickly to pick up the fallen merchandise that the kids had left scattered in their hasty retreat. Max spied those same kids watching from a safe distance, clustered beneath the safety of another vendor's awning. Blinking quickly, she turned back to the matter at hand. There were various toys that seemed enchanted in some way or another, but Max didn't want to frighten Nolie with a hovering ball that changed shape or a lifelike reindeer miniature that charged her hands.

Instead, she went for the dolls. Nolie wasn't obsessed with dolls in the way that some girls were, but she had a few treasured ones that she kept in pristine condition. Maybe one day it would be a collectible. Max rooted through them all as Loki stood watch nearby, his hands clasped behind his back. The smoke from the vendor's pipe had started to make her eyes water.

In the end, Max decided on a doll who looked like Nolie. Dark brown hair was so difficult to find on the more popular dolls, and she settled on a beautiful hand-stitched doll made of the softest fabric she'd ever felt. It wore a forest green dress and little black shoes, and its lips were twisted up in a perpetual grin that, surprisingly, wasn't creepy in the slightest.

"I think she'll like this one," Max said as she turned back to show off the prize to Loki. "Do you… Do you mind…? I have money, but obviously it's not the currency—"

"Of course." He said the words in such a matter-of-fact way, like her question was foolish and unnecessary. His attention then drifted back to the merchant, who was suddenly hovering very close to her. "How much for the doll?"

"For you, my prince, I will give a very special price." Max looked away from the yellow, stained teeth as the man smiled, and then stepped out from the space between them when Loki scoffed.

"And does a very special price mean I'll be paying double because I am a _prince_?" The corner of Loki's lips twitched upward when she looked to him, and Max hide her smile as the merchant stammered. This was all a game to him, one, perhaps, he'd wanted to play ever since they arrived. She hadn't even considered that there would be a barter system in place.

As the duo argued over the price, their voices nothing more than background noise, Max tucked the doll under her arm and pulled her gloves back on. She'd removed them to get a feel for the toys, knowing Nolie was still at the stage where she wanted to touch everything.

At least she was well beyond putting things in her mouth…

Smirking, she straightened up and flicked some fallen hair from her face. Snow had gathered on Loki's shoulders. It speckled his hair. Her toes were starting to get numb just standing in it, and yet he gave no indication that he even felt the briskness of the day.

Her gaze wandered to Thor and Jane, still tasting foods by that nearby cart, then she let it drift back to the kids. Huddled beneath the awning, they watched the scene in front of the toy stand play out in silence. Dirty faces. Mussed hair. Even in the midst of gold skyscrapers and glittering roads, there was still poverty.

"Wait," she said, turning back and touching Loki's arm. "Can I get a few more things?"

* * *

><p>Of all the gifts Loki thought he'd bestow upon his lady love during her initial days in Asgard, dolls and other children's toys certainly hadn't ever crossed his mind. Arms crossed, he watched her pick toy after toy, awkwardly stuffing each trinket under her arms until she had nothing left to hold her stockpile with anymore. She looked to him with a small smile, a tentative one, and he knew he couldn't refuse her anything. He would have much rather spent his money on something for <em>her<em>, but buying a gift for her niece would do.

After all, the little girl was Max's family, and very well might be _his_ family one day. He could dote on her, just this once.

The merchant, a man whose eyes had a steely glint to them, was obviously thrilled at the windfall. The downtown shops varied in their successes. Those who were fortunate enough to buy a store of some kind, one that was indoors and clean and well-stocked, were occasionally on par with the sellers who hawked their goods to the nobility at the palace. The street vendors, including the pipe-smoking man before him, were generally less fortunate. Those on the street bartered with the people who couldn't afford the merchandise in the stores—and that meant they weren't pocketing anywhere close to what their fellow retailers did.

But Loki wasn't one of the ruffians this man was probably used to bullying into buying his goods. He might have had a whole vault lined with gold and silver and copper, but he wasn't about to throw it away. Not yet. His buying reputation was unknown amongst the common folk, and he wanted to keep it that way.

Then, when he showered them with wealth, his repute would soar. Odin only treated the peasants, like the shivering children waiting for Max and Loki to leave, occasionally. From what Loki understood, the old king lacked Frigga's charitable touch when it came to those beyond the palace walls. Oh, he was a sweet, decrepit figure when an impoverished farmer managed to obtain an audience with him, but he only gave extras to individuals, not the masses.

Loki would take a different approach, should he ever grace the throne again.

He counted his coins slowly, deliberating, placing each one in the merchant's hand with a hard look in his eye. In the end, the price was fair for the goods, but he knew he'd pay whatever was necessary to keep Max smiling.

"A pleasure doing business with you, my lord, my lady." Max's head snapped back to them as the merchant bowed, her cheeks a little pink. Perhaps she was unaccustomed to the title, which made Loki grin. In time, she'd grow used to the lesser of society addressing her as such, especially if she stayed with him. He gave the merchant a curt nod, a silent dismissal, and returned to her side.

"Let me carry some of this," he insisted. Their vehicle wasn't far from where they stood: the quartet had walked in a huge loop for most of the afternoon, enjoying the inner-city markets as much as they could amidst the madness. At this point, they were almost back to where they started, and he had to commend Max—and Jane, begrudgingly—for not complaining once. Both women kept up with Thor and Loki in the chaos that the daytime markets usually brought, and had been on their feet for a few hours now.

Thor had the good sense to feed his irritable little woman. Loki caught them out of the corner of his eye, trying samples from a food vendor who specialized in fresh and cooked seafood. He recalled once, a very long time ago, pinching a small piece of fish. He was caught by his mother, who had forced him to pay for the product and apologize in front of everyone. Thor, meanwhile, stole a huge fish while everyone's attention was on Loki, and the boys cooked it in their bedroom hearth when no one was looking.

He almost smiled at the memory, now hazy and distant in his mind.

"Here, take this one," she said, somehow managing to get the initial doll she selected into his hands. He almost asked to take the rest, noting the way her human arms trembled under the weight of the load, but before he could get a word in edgewise, she was gone. Turning on her heel, Max strode toward the children who had crowded the cart as they arrived. Little street urchins with dirty clothes and greasy hair. He wouldn't have cast them a second glance had she not drawn his attention to them.

"What is she doing?" Thor's voice rumbled in his ear, and he flinched, so focused on Max that he hadn't noticed the two come to his side.

"I suspect…" Loki said slowly, making quick guesswork of her intentions as she called out to the children. Some scattered as she approached, but a few bolder ones crawled out from under the woolly awning over the candle cart, their expressions nervous. "I suspect I did not purchase all those toys for her niece."

His fingers smoothed over the soft doll in his hands. Such a simple gift. Max had made him purchase far more extravagant items for those Asgardian little ones than she had for her own family.

"How sweet of her," Thor offered. His brother smiled as he watched Max, and before he could stop him, the big oaf wandered over to the crowd. Standing alone with and entertaining Jane was on the very bottom of his list of priorities, and he stalked after Thor soundlessly, ignoring her as best he could. Short, swift footfalls could be heard behind him, and he assumed she understood his opinion of her by now.

Max had followed the children into a wide-set alley between buildings, one less crowded than the main thoroughfare, and he couldn't help but smile when he saw her distribute the toys. Many of the children came trickling back when they undoubtedly realized the strange woman wasn't there to punish them, and they surged toward her with greedy hands outstretched. When all the toys were handed out, he watched Max crouch beside a group, pointing at the hovering ball and speaking to them. Too far to hear the conversation, he assumed she was asking how it worked.

Then, suddenly, the ball broke apart into a dozen little balls, and Max yelped in surprise. Thor joined in with the children's laughter, and she placed a hand on her chest, smiling. His eyes wandered upward for a moment, and he found they had a small audience in the towering apartments. A few curious heads poked out of the windows, and most stayed when Thor joined in on the games. He'd always been so soft and approachable with children: his reputation was well-known amongst the common folk.

Thor, the beloved prince. Loki, the unknown.

Leaving Jane alone once more, Loki made his way to Max's side, then crouched beside her. A few of the children glanced his way warily, but he assumed many were too young to know Asgard's disgraced prince by appearance alone.

"These are amazing," she laughed, her eyes wide with delight as one of the little girls used the chalk she'd purchased to make artistic renderings in mid-air.

"This was very kind of you." He murmured the words so as to not draw attention to them, and she squeezed his arm.

"Well, they owe it all to you," she remarked. "You bought everything."

Down the alley, amidst steam grates and garbage bins, Thor had started a keep-away game with some of the older boys. Jane stood nearby, watching with her hands inside her cloak, looking a little tired. He glanced back at Max, noting that she had slight bags under her eyes. He ought to take her home soon, get her in a bath—get them _both_ in a bath, perhaps with a glass of wine.

A metallic ball rolled to his feet, and the boy chasing after it came to an abrupt halt. Without missing a beat, Loki picked it up and tossed it back to the little lad, returning the boy's easy smile with one of his own. He could have improved upon each and every toy here. A bit of magic would have gone a long way, but many Asgardians were as wary of sorcery as they were of him. They appreciated magic, yes, but that didn't mean it didn't frighten them.

The games lasted longer than he expected, and he ended up sitting on a stoop with the doll resting securely on his lap. Max, meanwhile, had been distracted by the mid-air chalk art, and was playing a game of X's and O's—teaching the game, more like—with a cluster of little girls. The door upon which he leaned opened suddenly, and he had to catch himself from falling backward.

"Oh, my lord!" The voice came from a horrified young woman, a little boy clutching at her skirts. "I'm so sorry, I didn't… I didn't know you were sitting there—"

"No harm done," he said simply, standing and moving to the side. "Tis I blocking your door, after all."

She was petite and nubile, a typical young mother whose boy was better dressed than she. Who might the father be? A noble who clothed his boy better than his mistress? It wasn't unheard of, especially for this area of the city.

"Go play, Ragnar," the woman muttered, shooing the boy outside. He shuffled by Loki shyly, but his hesitation was gone once he found his way to Thor's game. Loki looked up briefly, noting that their audience above had grown. "Can I get you anything, my prince?"

Ah, so she did recognize him. He shook his head. "No, thank you."

She lingered in her doorway, shivering in the chill, and gave a small cough before asking, "Are the children bothering you? They make an awful racket when they're riled up."

"I'm afraid my brother and my sweet lady," he pointed to Max, who was drawing a big X in one of the floating squares, "are the ones riling them up. Have we bothered you?"

Her eyes widened, aghast, and she quickly shook her head. "No, no, never—"

"We'll be on our way soon," he told her, fishing his coin sac from his pocket. He then grabbed a handful of gold and gestured for her to hold out her hand. "When we go, see that all the children here are given a hot meal."

"Y-Yes, my prince, of course."

Loki, the generous prince.

He bid her a farewell nod, then made his way through the sea of children to find Thor. It was easy enough to distract the man from his game, and when Loki told him it was time to get the women somewhere warm, it was like he remembered he wasn't alone out here.

"Ah, yes, of course, yes," he babbled, looking to Jane to confirm that she was, in fact, cold. "Thank you for reminding me."

Max seemed reluctant to end the games early, but the children were even more unwilling to let them leave. The games had gone on long enough, however, and Loki's gentle coaxing hurried her along. They soon found themselves strolling back to their hovercraft through the crowds of people. Max held her niece's gift to her chest, a prominent grin on her face. Her expression faltered briefly, however, as they neared their boat.

"Do you think people can tell I'm human?"

He held her close to him, enjoying the feel of her beneath his arm and pressed to his side. "Perhaps."

"Oh." Her expression faltered further, and he pressed a kiss to her cheek in an effort to cheer her up.

"Not many Asgardians walk the markets in jeans, my sweet," he told her, and the realization seemed to relax her somewhat. The common folk weren't especially observant in his experience, and probably assumed Max was a human just as much as they assumed Loki was a frost giant. Well, perhaps she was more obvious, given her unwillingness to part with her Midgardian fashion. She didn't blend as well as he did—she was bound to get some curious looks.

Human. His little human with skin that was starting to crinkle around her eyes. Every hour she was closer to a mortal death. He clenched his jaw and held her tighter, and she brought her head to rest against his shoulder. He could pretend that her mortality didn't bother him—he must if he wished to continue this relationship, this love affair. He couldn't fault her for her humanity, no more than she could fault him for his true self, but he wished, in his heart of hearts, that she belonged to a different kind. Any kind. The galaxy was wide-reaching and fruitful in the kinds of creatures it produced, many of whom lived long lives that could rival an Asgardian.

Why was she born human?

Loki was left to ponder that and more horrible thoughts when Thor stole his lady away, distracting her with a candy shop they frequented regularly as boys. It was wall-to-wall sweetness inside, and it didn't surprise Loki in the slightest that Max was immediately taken with the place.

And so he sat, with an exhausted Jane by his side, munching away on a molasses cube and contemplating the impending death of the woman he loved most, his mind steadily taken by darkness.

* * *

><p><strong>AUTHOR'S NOTES:<strong>

**HELLO ALL! First and foremost, thank you to everyone who wished me well on my surgery. Things went super swell, and my surgeon found no endometriosis (aka no lifelong disease for me!) and took out the cysts that were leaving me bedridden for a lot of this year. Recovery was a bitch, since it's my lower abdomen that has all the incisions on it, and my man described me as a struggling baby deer on ice anytime I tried to walk by myself during the first week. My pain meds also gave me dizzy spells, so I was offline longer than I anticipated. **

**Anyway. I'm back now, things are good, yeay. In one of my reviews, a reviewer asked if I could go into details about my freelance work. I won't take up heaps of space on it, but I can give a few details. I write on a freelance site called elance, where you bid on client jobs with tokens. You give the price the client would pay if you worked the gig, then they select your bid if you got the job. Editing positions are the most competitive, and I've moved on to strictly ghostwriting fiction to cut some of my competitors out. Freelance work is pretty competitive anyway, and lots of people lowball their bids in order to get the job, which makes it harder for people who have average prices that represent their experience. But yeah, if you have more questions, message me here or on tumblr! I'm happy to answer anything. **

**Happy holidays to everyone celebrating this time of year! I always try to post an update on Christmas Eve or Day as a gift to you guys. This is my first year not going home for the holidays… apparently I'm an adult now. But the man and I are decorating gingerbread cookies (some idiot, aka me, thought there would still be houses left on December 23****rd****, but I was woefully mistaken) and watching **_**A Christmas Story**_** tonight, so I don't feel like an adult. **

**Much like Max and Loki. They are grown-ass folk who don't act their age, and it makes me really happy. I had a lot of fun writing the cuteness in this chapter, and once again examining the relationships between Thor and Jane vs. Max and Loki. I'm enjoying detailing that progress, and I hope you like reading about it. **

**K. Super long author's note is long. I'M OFF! Hope everyone has a magical day (Christmas Eve is always my fav, after Halloween), and you enjoy your time off work or school or both! Keeping up with my schedule, there will be no update next week, so… OMG SEE YOU IN 2015. **


	5. Drops of Jupiter in her hair

"Are you ready?"

Max smiled when she heard the quiver of excitement in his voice. Tugging her jacket's hood over her head, she nodded. "Yes."

"Come along then." He held out his hand to her, which she grasped, and led her out of his room.

As they went, she cast one final look at the window panes above them. The snow had melted in the early hours of yesterday's evening, and in its place came a brutal thunderstorm that battered the palace well into the night. From the opening atop Loki's tower, Max had noted in the now hazy dawn, Asgard was no longer blanketed in white at all. Instead, its greenery burst forth, the rolling hills in the distance their destination that morning.

Even if everything was soggy and miserable, she was glad to see the snow go. Having just gone through a winter herself back on Earth, she wasn't keen to be thrown into the thick of an Asgardian one so soon after arriving. Loki had no opinion on the changing weather, but he instructed her to bundle up today just as he had yesterday when they'd gone to the market.

"You never know how the winds will behave," he'd murmured as he magically thickened the fabric of her jacket, holding her close enough that his lips brushed against her forehead. Somewhat tired, at the time Max had debated pulling him back to bed and sleeping a few more hours away. But then he'd stepped back and asked if she was ready, and in that moment, she couldn't refuse him anything.

Hand-in-hand, they descended the lengthy stairwell in silence, a giddy bubble engulfing them. It was still early in the day yet—almost an hour before sunrise, apparently. The lights placed strategically on the stone walls, reminding her of bedroom nightlights that you pushed to turn on, gave off a cosy, soft yellow glow. Inoffensive to all those who needed to be awake at such an ungodly hour, she found no reason to squint or grumble when she looked to the orbs, wondering what they were made of. It wasn't a torch, and yet it looked like each circular light held a flame.

She almost asked, but she didn't want to spoil their silence. Instead, she clutched Loki's hand tighter in both of hers, and smiled up at him when he glanced down to her.

As they neared the bottom of the stairwell, Loki drew a hood over his head too. The great entrance hall was almost vacant for the first time since she arrived. In her experience, traders and nobles and servants gathered together in the enormous room, with its immense stone columns and thick fur rugs. But now, so early in the morning, no one but the servants moved about, and they did so in near silence. Loki led her toward the doors, but Max couldn't bring herself to look away. Kitchen servants. Housekeepers. Maintenance workers. It seemed their tasks were never done.

A cat raced in front of them as they approached the doors, and Max gasped sharply gasp. Her cheeks flushed at Loki's chuckles, and over her shoulder she spotted a trio of kittens tumbling after the sleek feline. It seemed they'd found a rat hole to crowd around—Max's eyes quickly scanned the small crack in the foundation, the first she'd seen since she arrived.

The first breath she drew outside hurt her throat. The air was crisp and still, cool but not cold. She barely felt the temperature change, given the way Loki had altered her clothing, and she shot him a grateful look as he pulled a tarp off their hover boat. It was beached for the moment, resting on its side, and the covering had kept it dry overnight. She stood back as he prepared everything, her hands in her pockets, surveying the empty courtyard with a serene expression. The silence was a little jarring—she'd almost become accustomed to all the noise and people.

A bit of movement caught her eye, snapping her out of the peaceful, somewhat tired state she'd been in. Guards. They wandered the perimeter of the courtyard fleetingly before disappearing behind a cluster of thick pines—well, trees that _looked_ like pines, anyway. However, as they disappeared, footfalls grew louder. Her ears twitched at the sound. Coming from behind, they sounded like solid boots hitting the stonework, and Max turned on her heel. She exhaled softly at the sight of Loki's two servants, each carrying a basket as they approached.

"Ah, yes, good." Loki wiped his hands on his trousers, and Max noted that the hover boat was off the ground by a few feet, humming to life before her very eyes. Neither servant looked at Max when they stopped in front of them. One was only a boy, and he kept his gaze on the ground, whereas the older of the two seemed to be looking at Loki's chin. Perhaps it was a sign of respect, of deference, but Max thought it must be awkward to have a conversation like that.

"Breakfast, lunch, and blankets, my prince," the older of the two remarked, taking the basket from the boy and setting both in the hovercraft. "Will you be needing anything else?"

"Your silence," Loki remarked, and Max folded her arms across her chest. "Tell no one where we've gone. I do not wish to be disturbed, even with the best of intentions."

"Of course."

Both bowed at the barely there dismissal, the boy clumsier in his movements than his companion, and hurried back into the palace without another word.

"What are their names?" Max asked, keeping her voice low, as if asking for a secret. She'd seen them before—they'd first met her in the vaguest of terms while she was naked in Loki's bed. Since then, she was getting more and more used to the fact that Loki had servants, and she thought it only fair she knew their names.

Loki motioned for her to get in the boat, helping her up gently. "The elder is Carr. He was appointed to me when I returned from Earth. I wouldn't expect much in the form of a conversation from him."

She grabbed hold of the side, feeling as off-balance in a hover boat as she did after clambering into a real boat. It swayed side to side, as if rocking on top of the water, and she was happy to take a seat on the thickset bench she'd shared with Jane yesterday. Loki climbed in after her, moving effortlessly with his long limbs. His hood shadowed his face, and as she watched him secure the baskets and blankets, she felt the urge to push it down.

"And the boy?"

"Olek," he told her, straightening up and handing her a thin blanket. She didn't need it now, but she suspected she might once they were moving. She offered him a small smile as she wrapped the fabric around her shoulders. "I hired him recently. Painfully shy boy… I wouldn't expect much from him either yet."

Max raised an eyebrow at him. "Why would you hire him if he's painfully shy?"

"Because I recall a boy who, for a time, was also very shy," he mused, a hand resting briefly on her shoulder as he climbed over the bench to get to the steering rod behind her, "and I would have liked people to take more chances on him."

She watched him for a moment, an affectionate look in her eye, before wrapping the blanket tighter around her shoulders and looking to the horizon. Pale purples and blues stretched out as far as she could see, marred only by the grey, threatening storm clouds looming overhead. Max almost asked if Thor could keep the rain away for a little while, but thought better of it as the boat eased along the edge of the courtyard. Loki wanted a day to themselves, and they were headed somewhere as remote as possible—according to him—to get some relief from the chaos of daily palace life. He probably wouldn't appreciate Thor being brought into the plan, even if it was to get the weather sorted out.

After whizzing through the courtyard's entrance, Loki turned in the opposite direction of the city. In the distance, Max noted some of the vendors making their way toward the palace, bringing with them their carts filled with goods. She wondered if any of them noticed the hovercraft slip by.

The beautiful gold buildings shrunk the further they drove, hovering over the shoreline to avoid any of the main roads. Max would have preferred Loki sitting next to her, but the winds would have made conversation difficult anyway. Eyes watering in the breeze, she took in everything she could, from the architecture that had become rounder and soft, to the soggy treeline, a mix of pine and leafless trees alike.

Then, when she saw no more buildings, Loki turned the boat away from the sea and drove them inward. One hand gripped the bench while the other closed the blanket around her, and Max breathed deeply as they ventured into the Asgardian countryside. The city was by no means a smog-riddled nightmare. Manhattan, in all its big city glory, had always seemed to stifle her, but Asgard's downtown core felt fresh and clean—breathable. It was only now, as they eased over gently sloping hills of green, that Max realized the freshest air still remained in the countryside.

In fact, she found her throat and nose ached if she filled her lungs completely.

"Look!" Max shouted, pointing to one hill as they passed. Scattered atop and around it were enormous white balls of fluff—sheep, she assumed. They were bigger than any sheep she'd ever seen in her life, and none of them seemed to be moving: content in their spot, she watched them raise and lower their heads to the grass, and she couldn't help but laugh. _Sheep_. In _Asgard_. How ordinary and wonderful.

When she looked back to Loki, he was grinning at her. Without a word, he reached forward and pulled the blanket up so that it sat just below her chin. He then turned his attention forward, steering their hover boat one-handed as he leaned against the thick wooden siding. His hood had tumbled back, and she lowered hers too, inhaling deeply as the wind brushed through her hair.

And then coughed when the freshness of said inhalation tickled the back of her throat. Shallower breaths needed from here on out, apparently.

Asgard's beauty was endless. Not only was the city spectacular, but the countryside belonged on a postcard. Even with the dreary skies and the muddy ground, it was beautiful. Again, she could see why Loki was so eager to come home, and why neither Masonville nor Manhattan could hold a candle to what he was accustomed to.

After miles and miles of going straight, Loki turned the boat sharply to the right, and she slid along the bench in response. Yelping, Max grabbed the siding, then shot him a narrowed look over her shoulder. His laughter made her cheeks pink.

"Fuck you," she managed as she resettled herself on the bench. "I wasn't ready for that."

"Then it's your fault, not mine," he told her, his voice carrying over the wind. She made sure he saw her roll her eyes, ignoring the way he smirked triumphantly.

He steered them toward a small hilltop. While there had been a lot of land covered in forest closer to the city, the trees had thinned considerably here, giving way to steeper hills and distant mountains. The noise around her quieted as the boat slowed, and she swore she heard the babbling of a creek somewhere nearby. Her stomach rumbled excitedly, as if it knew about its impending meal.

Loki chose a spot beside a thick tree to bring the boat to a stop. Max's eyes wandered up, taking in the fat leafless branches, then downward to note the tips of wide roots poking out of the ground.

"Here will do," he said as he hopped over the side. There was nothing around for as far as the eye could see: nothing but trees and greenery and wide open space. Even if they had made someone privy to their plans for the day, she had serious doubts anyone would actually be able to find them out here. It wasn't like the hovercraft left a noticeable trail behind them.

Setting the blanket aside, Max shuffled over to the little opening and set her hands on Loki's shoulders, happy to let him lift her up and out of the vehicle. It didn't hover far above the ground—she could have easily climbed down if she wanted, but Loki seemed to like assisting her. Hands wrapped around her waist, he set her down close to his body, and she stole a quick kiss, her hands trailing over his chest. They lingered there for a moment, lips barely touching, her eyes closed. Warm breath danced across her skin, and she almost slid her hands back up and into his hair.

Almost. Had it not been for her stomach's obnoxious rumble, their arrival at their picnic destination could have taken a very different turn. Instead, she stepped back with a slightly embarrassed laugh, her hand on her stomach, and grinned when Loki placed a quick peck on her cheek. He then stepped around her and took care of the boat.

When he was finished, Loki had the once floating vehicle on its side, and Max stood back, watching as he spread a blanket out across the siding.

"The ground seems a little wet for what I initially had in mind," he noted, and Max dug her toes into the ground, listening to the squish of muddy earth. "But I think this will also work just fine."

"Looks cosy," she said, crouching down and settling in. With her back against what would be the bottom of the boat, her feet were the only parts of her in contact with the soaked grass. Grabbing the breakfast basket, she and Loki unloaded the deliciousness inside, her mouth watering at the sights of freshly baked bread loaves, crisp berries, and containers of the oatmeal-like slop she'd fallen in love with. Loki was more inclined to the meat platter, which she let him have. Their tea was still hot as she poured it into two cups, and they both settled back with contented sigh, an absolute feast awaiting them.

"So why did you pick here?" she asked after swallowing a mouthful of bread. It had slid down slowly, thickly, bringing her to one of those panicky moments where she thought she might choke. Thankfully there was no need for the Heimlich maneuver just yet.

"I wanted to take you somewhere peaceful," he replied after a moment's consideration. Her eyes fixated on the way his long, lean fingers rolled the thin meat slice up before popping it in his mouth. His hands could be mesmerising when they wanted to be. "Even I sometimes find the palace to be an overwhelming place… I thought this would be a good spot to clear your head."

"I don't mind the chaos." She pulled her heavy metal spoon through the oatmeal, thinking. "I mean, living in New York basically prepared me for any kind of human clusterfuck possible." He rumbled his agreement while chewing, and Max licked her lips before shooting him a reassuring smile. "But I like the quiet too."

She could only imagine the day they'd have if the weather had been kinder. To sprawl out in grass like this beneath a warm ray of sunshine was probably as close to heaven as she'd ever get.

"Are you glad to be out of Manhattan?"

Although she'd been in Asgard for almost three days now, she and Loki had spent a shockingly small amount of time talking about anything of substance. Beyond their conversation the first night about what he had been through after they were separated, they tended to talk about the now: palace life, Asgard, the city markets, servants, fucking. For some reason, it didn't surprise her. Talking about the life she led when they were apart was, in a way, acknowledging the uncomfortable distance between them.

She couldn't be sure if he knew that almost two years had passed since he left Earth. Two years of her life spent away from him. Two long years.

Swallowing down her bite, Max nodded. "I like the slower pace of things in Collingwood, but I like living close to Nolie the most. I get to babysit a lot while her mom travels."

"Is she well?"

"Who? Nolie?" Max smiled, unable to not when she thought about her niece. "Yeah, she's fine. Chubby, like she was when you saw her. Elisa keeps blaming me for giving her snacks, but it's the school lunches that are making these kids keep their baby fat." She rolled her eyes and stabbed at her bowl of oatmeal. She could rant about all the things Elisa blamed on her for days. "And she's pissed that Nolie isn't some whizz kid in the 'advanced' kindergarten. I mean, it's ridiculous. She's four. She doesn't need to be in an _advanced_ class. She's perfect just the way she is."

Talking about it always made her blood boil—probably because she'd never say a word about her feelings to Elisa. It had taken almost a year for the woman to even acknowledge Max's presence again, which meant Nolie had been kept from her the whole time too. After moving to Virginia, they'd begun to repair their fractured relationship, and Max didn't want to ruin things by picking a fight. After all, Elisa could just as easily hire a babysitter for Nolie, or ship her off to one of her nearby relatives.

"She's lucky to have you as her champion."

The words caught her off-guard, and tears sprung to her eyes at the sentiment. Blinking them away, she shrugged. "I guess. I try, anyway."

Seeing as Max was inadvertently the reason the little girl had no dad? Damn right she tried.

"Tell me more."

Max looked to him, her eyebrows slightly raised. "More? About Nolie?"

"About anything," he said, setting his empty plate aside and leaning his head back against the boat. He sighed contentedly, oozing a relaxation she'd seldom seen since arriving in Asgard. "Talk to me. It's been a long time since I've been able to listen to your voice… I've missed it."

She hid her smile in a spoonful of mushy oatmeal. It was rare to hear him sweet talk her—she liked it.

"Well, I guess I can tell you about the time Nolie put peanut butter and syrup on my laptop, insisting it was the same as my waffle-maker…"

That little stunt cost her school a new laptop, considering they were the ones who'd issued it. The poor thing was beyond repair after she'd tried to clean it, and Nolie was none the wiser. From there, she regaled him with stories about her niece, transitioning into her teaching career after a particularly annoying tale about the time she had to visit Nolie's teacher because Nolie was biting other kids and Elisa was out of town.

"Most of my students really don't care when I'm talking," she said with a sigh, her head on his shoulder. As the food dwindled down, they'd packed up the leftovers and set them aside, preferring to sit next to one another rather than apart. Fingers intertwined, they cuddled in the shelter of their hover boat as the winds picked up, bringing with them a warmth from the coast—or so Loki said. "I mean, I get first year history is kind of boring, but I can guarantee you at least four of them fall asleep _every_ class."

"Perhaps I'll sit in the back of the room for your upcoming year," he murmured, his lips brushing against her forehead. She smiled at the thought and gave his hand a small squeeze. "I'm sure I can find a way to keep them awake…"

"You'd become a hot commodity around campus, I can tell you that much."

He chuckled softly, nothing more than a few gentle exhales, and she felt him press a kiss to her temple.

"More," he encouraged, and she gave a dramatic sigh.

"More?" Shifting more of a seated position rather than a slouched one, she searched her brain for more safe topics to talk about. Not her parents. "Garret and Tiffany keep popping out kids…"

Her smile faltered when she noticed the slight twitch of his lip at the mention of kids. Fuck. Children weren't exactly a safe topic either. Clearing her throat, Max sat up a little straighter, keeping her tight grip on his hand.

"I started jogging," she told him, nodding when his eyebrows started their ascent up his forehead. "Yeah, every day I try to go for a run, weather permitting, and…"

Max trailed off when he started laughing, and he shifted away from her, shaking his head.

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to laugh—"

"But you are," she said, unimpressed. He grinned and cleared his throat. "Is the idea of me running that hilarious to you?"

"It's a _little_ hilarious to picture you willingly participating in physical activity on a daily basis."

"Hey," she laughed, poking him squarely in the chest. As usual, it hurt her finger more than her finger hurt him. "Fuck you. I've become a _fantastic _runner."

"Ah, I see I've hurt your pride," he sighed, sitting up a little more and taking her hands. "Let me clarify myself…"

Max pulled her hands away, sensing a game in the making. This was easy—much easier than the conversations they had left. "You want to race, pal?"

"Race? _Pal_?"

"Yeah," she said, crawling out of the boat and standing. Her knees cracked noisily—not a good sign. "I'm pretty fast now."

Loki climbed out after her, getting to his feet with no cracks in any of his joints. "I don't doubt you are physically capable of running, but…"

"I'm stellar at it."

He reached for her, his hands going for her arms. "I guess I'll just have to take your word for it."

Trying her best to hide her grin, Max stepped out of his reach and quirked a challenging eyebrow. He sighed, going for her again, and she danced out of the way once more. His eyes lit up playfully, a feral smile spreading across his face, and he made her squeal with a fake lunge, going for her with his upper body but keeping his feet planted in the mud. Adrenaline shot through her: fight or flight kicked in, and she scrambled back with a giggle.

"Yes, you're very fast," he said, taking a step toward her. Max took two steps back, wiggling her eyebrows at him. "But I'm much faster."

"Ha."

Before he could get another dig in, Max turned on the balls of her feet and took off, racing across the open field. Mud splattered up her legs, painting her shoes and calves, but she barely felt it. A quick glance over her shoulder showed her Loki had given her a bit of a headstart, but he wasn't far behind now, hair billowing in the wind, an expression mixed with calmness and smugness on his face.

He was faster—she didn't doubt that. Her long legs were no match for his in any circumstance, but the game was fun and that's what she wanted.

Well, it was fun until her foot landed wrong on a particularly wet patch of grass. On the crest of the hill, she slipped, both feet falling out from under her, and she slid halfway down the hill on her butt, laughing. When she finally came to a stop, she flopped back, her laughter fading to the occasional chuckle, and stared up at the sky. The clouds have given way to a bit of real sky, showing off the light blue. Sloshy footsteps caught her attention, and she tilted her head back, half-wishing she was still wearing her hood: cool rainwater was seeping through her hair.

Loki sauntered toward her with a bemused expression on his face. "I should have expected something like this to happen."

She pointed a finger up at him. "Rude."

"I know the truth hurts, my sweet," he said as he moved down the hill, and just as he was about to add something more, his foot also slid out from under him. She swore she saw panic flash across his face as he slipped and slid a foot or two, though he was far more graceful than she'd been.

And he somehow managed to remain upright. Still, Max thought it was worth the teasing.

"_Ha_…"

"Let's get you up," he muttered, bending over and grabbing her by her arms. Rather than drag her into an upright position, Loki went one step further and ended up hauling her over his shoulder. She squealed again, grasping at the back of his thick shirt as her legs flailed.

"Loki!"

"You seem incapable of not rolling in the mud," he told her, swatting at her behind. She pinched his side in turn, wishing he'd twitch. He didn't. "I'm afraid this is the only way I can secure your wellbeing."

She rolled her eyes as he started to make the climb back up the hill, her elbows pressed into his back so she could rest her head on her hands. "How thoughtful of you… thinking about my wellbeing."

"It's all I _ever_ think about, naturally."

"_Naturally_." She heard him chuckle and give her a little shake—teasing, playful. As they leveled out on the top of the hill, she scanned the area again. Still alone. There wasn't another single person or house for miles, and she wondered if this was what Loki really wanted. Would he someday just up and move out of the palace to be away from people? Max glanced over at him—at the back of his head, specifically—and gave a little sigh.

When he set her down, they had returned to their little picnic spot, and Loki held her by the shoulders to appraise her. He feigned an unimpressed look, clucking his tongue at all the mud.

"This is why I can't take you anywhere."

She cocked her head to the side, smirking at him, and then inhaled as his magic's familiar warmth spread over her body. Swallowing thickly, she watched the mud and dirt and grass stains fade, her clothes suddenly as pristine as they were when she pulled them out of her bag that morning. His hands soon found their way into her hair, working through it as he backed her against the tree.

"There," he whispered, cradling her head in his hands. "Perfect."

"That's a bit of a stretch," she murmured, then exhaled shakily when he trailed his lips over her neck. He rumbled an approval, a deep, guttural sound that reverberated in his chest, a sound that made her toes curl. Her hands fisted in the coarse material of his shirt, desperate to yank him closer, but he held firm. She pulled harder and tilted her hips toward his, but even that couldn't encourage him.

They'd spent most of last night in the hot springs beneath the castle—he'd had her so many times over that she was surprised she was walking today, let alone feeling pangs of arousal shoot through her. But then again, they had a lot of lost time to make up for.

His lips moved, her skin tingled, but she was also acutely aware that he wasn't actually touching her with them. They hovered over her prickling skin, their coolness radiating, but each warm puff of air he exhaled rekindled the embers from last night. He knew how to stroke the fire, to get her going. He could tease just as well, if not better, than she ever could.

Feeling his lips part and just _barely_ graze her neck was all she could take. Max turned her head to the side, hoping to catch him in a kiss, but he caught her before she could reach him. His palm pressed to her throat, thumb tilting her head back at the tip of her chin. Their eyes met, both alight with desire, and she licked her lips, hoping to distract him.

Her attempt was unsuccessful—he was looking at her with that _focus_, with that intensity that always stirred something in her. His other hand splayed across her abdomen, pushing her hips away so that her back pressed fully to the tree trunk again. She trailed her fingers over the hand that gripped her neck and tipped her head back, then murmured his name, knowing just how much he liked to hear her say it—whimper it, moan it, cry it out.

He responded by inching her head back further, closing in so that they could still hold one another's gaze. His burned. It seared right through her, and she could feel the telltale signs of arousal pooling between her thighs from his stare alone.

Like she was going to let him have all the fun. Her hand fell from his, joined shortly by the other at the drawstring that kept his trousers up. She had to get used to it, different from the standard jeans or button and zipper. Before he could stop her, she had it undone, a feat accomplished by one simple tug of the ties.

She wasn't surprised to find him hard when her hands slipped down to caress him—he seemed forever ready to play these days, with very little prompting.

Again. So much lost time to make up for.

Loki let out the softest of grunts when she stroked him with both hands, and Max tried her best to hide her smug smirk when she noticed his eyelashes flutter. Ha. Two could play—

Before she could even finish the thought, he'd yanked her hands away and turned her on the spot, dragging her body flush with his. Her wandering hands were pressed to the tree, and even when he released them to tackle the button on her jeans, she kept them there. Panting, Max let her head fall forward, gasping when he cupped her. She shifted side to side, both rubbing against him and inching her jeans and underwear down to her knees. The breeze should have been cold on her bare skin, but pressed against Loki, back to chest, she barely felt anything beyond his teasing touch.

His fingers delved between her thighs, and Max gave a weak cry when they found what they were looking for below. Each rub, each pinch, each twist and caress and roll was sweet agony. Her nails bit into the tree's bark, her arms locked at the elbow as she kept herself up. She tried to turn in his arms, but he managed to keep her in place, his free hand splayed over her chest, holding her to him. Even if she couldn't turn her body, she'd hoped to steal a kiss now, finally, but just as she tried, Loki slipped two fingers into her slick entrance, and her jaw fell slack.

She rose quickly, suddenly finding herself on the brink of an orgasm—an overwhelming climax, one that seemed to bring both pain and pleasure in equal measures. Flustered, she removed her hands from the tree and tried to drag his hand away, doubling over as her muscles drew taut, but Loki would have none of it. He gathered her hands and pressed them back to the tree, his breath hot in her ear, and held them there as she stumbled over the edge.

Her cry echoed across the hills, and she swore she actually saw stars dancing in front of her eyes. When he released her, she was grateful he'd put her hands back on the tree, or she probably would have given in to her slightly buckled knees and fallen.

But there was no rest for the wicked. Loki pushed into her harshly, filling her with a single thrust, and her breathy moan intermingled with his grunt. She felt them again, his lips, and this time they were pressed to her hair—not where she wanted them. Her hand wandered up as he started pumping in and out of her, fisting in his hair and tugging.

"E-Easy," she stammered as she collapsed against the tree, not strong enough to hold herself up while he had his way with her. She winced as her cheek scraped against the bark. "Not so h-hard."

He exhaled noisily against the crook of her neck and shoulder, slowing to steady, punctuated thrusts that made her teeth chatter together. It was easy not to care when he reached between them to fiddle with her, to toy and tease until she was crying out in his arms again. A layer of sweat collected along her hairline, and as she tried to catch her breath, she wished she wasn't wearing anything.

When Loki pulled out of her, she was surprised she didn't collapse instantly. Her whole body felt like rubber: relaxed, pliant. Somehow she managed to keep herself up when he turned her and set her back against the tree, ducking down to yank her pants off. Loki tossed the garments toward the boat, then stepped between her parted thighs and hoisted her up, pressing into her with ease. She groaned, her arms wrapped around his neck, and had no objection to him burying his face into her hair as he took her—swiftly, roughly, all inhibitions thrown to the wind.

She bit her lower lip to keep from whimpering, knowing from his unsteady pants that he was close—no point in stopping him now.

"Careful," she whispered, the pain starting to surpass the pleasure, but for that moment, he was lost to her. A few more rough thrusts and he was spent, groaning against her skin as his hips finally stilled. She drew a few steady breaths, the pain fading fast, leaving behind the lingering pleasure instead.

"I'm sorry," he murmured as he straightened up, resting his cool forehead against her sweaty one. "I'm sorry, I… I got carried away. Did I hurt you?"

She closed her eyes, her legs trembling as they struggled to stay wrapped around his waist. "A little."

He kissed her, hard at first, but gentler after her fingertips grazed his jaw. Max relaxed into the kiss—it was what she'd wanted all along. A kiss. A kiss from Loki always told her what he was thinking, no matter what the exterior might have pretended.

"I'm sorry," he whispered again when they parted. "I should have stopped—"

"It's okay." She pushed the hair out his face, cupping his cheeks and making sure he held her gaze. "Really. I'm fine."

Nothing could top the bruises she'd had the first time they had sex after he stopped being human. While she was sure she'd be sore later, she didn't think he'd bruised her too bad.

"Max…"

"Stop," she said, swiping her thumb over his lower lip and stealing another quick kiss. The anguish on his face was plain, his forehead wrinkled and his eyes heavy. "It's okay. I'm okay. You're okay. Okay?"

"You're ridiculous." He sounded a little more playful again, though she was sure he'd beat himself up a little while longer. She smiled, wrapping her arms tighter around him, bringing their faces closer.

"And you love me for it."

He nodded, his eyes closed. "I do."

Max kissed his lips, his cheek, his neck, and then held him close, their faces buried in the crooks of each other's necks.

All in all, it was a fairly successful breakfast picnic.

* * *

><p>"Now, I must admit," Loki started, brushing the windblown hairs off her forehead as Max lay with her head in his lap, "I brought you out here with… slight ulterior motives."<p>

The clouds had drifted away as soon as mid-morning hit, and as Loki suspected, the sun had dried much of the countryside in a matter of hours. So, still in the solitude of the great outdoors, Loki had taken his lady love toward the sea, finding there the spot he'd wanted to show her all along.

Almost. First, he'd stopped at a small waterfall at Max's request, and the pair spent some time exploring the caverns behind the tumbling water. Her adoration for his home was endearing, and he'd known that this adventure would probably be her favourite of the visit thus far.

They sat together on the edge of the pool, just far enough from the waterfall that the mist wouldn't soak them. Max had sprawled there after exploring the caves, content beneath the sunshine, and Loki had seen no reason to hurry her along. Out here, they were on no one's schedule but their own, and he was in no rush to return to the palace. He'd been in that building, stifled, for too long now. With all that he needed to do, he found very little time to venture into the countryside these days.

This was as much a treat for him as it was for her.

Almost. He'd been on edge ever since they left that morning—before, even. Max thought the day was meant for nothing more than exploring a part of Asgard she hadn't seen yet, but there was something else, something he'd wanted to share since she arrived.

He noticed her cheeks pink up when he mentioned ulterior motives, and she clenched the hand that wore her ring. A small smile graced his lips: did she expect him to propose marriage here? Now?

"I have something I wanted to show you," he clarified, stroking her cheek with his thumb. "Are you ready to go?"

She nodded, grinning, and he helped her to her feet. She moved with a slight wince, and had done so ever since their coupling. He'd been too rough with her. He'd lost himself in her, and he blamed himself entirely for the pain she was in. Although she said nothing of it, he knew he'd made a mistake, and vowed to be more aware in the future.

But it was difficult, sometimes, to be so out of the experience. Max always enjoyed herself—or so he hoped—and yet Loki found he was never able to fully immerse himself in their togetherness, always worried he'd hurt her.

And today had shown him his fears were valid.

He took care as he helped her into the hovercraft, hyperaware of his grip on her waist, frowning at the way she hobbled to the bench. Their lunch basket sat unopened, and he thought their next destination might be a good spot to enjoy it. Maybe.

"Where are we going?" she asked as he clambered in, the boat rumbling beneath his fingertips. He avoided touching her as he climbed over the bench to reach the steering rod.

"It's… a surprise."

Her grin grew. "Oh?"

Her excitement would fade when she realized what he was showing her, surely, but he let her enjoy herself all the same. As the boat peeled away from the waterfall, leaving behind them the dark blue pool and the softly babbling stream, Loki pictured it: a tree. He'd planted it for Frigga shortly after he'd recovered from his ordeal with the dark elves. Close to the sea and yet not too close to the main city, it would endure for thousands of years, giving fruit and flowers in the springtime, offering shelter during stormy nights.

Just like Frigga.

Unfortunately, it would take some time for the tree to do any of those things, as it was nothing more than a little sapling now. Still, the message behind it was significant, and he knew he couldn't keep his mother's death from Max for much longer. She must have suspected something, anyway. His eyes darted down to her as she wrapped herself in one of the blankets, slightly hunched. Her expression was relaxed, thoughtful even, and in that moment he was glad to have her with him.

As they approached the spot he'd chosen, Loki slowed the boat carefully. A cool breeze wafted across the fields, ruffling the grass and shaking the nearly naked branches of trees nearby.

Max smiled at him when he helped her out again, her hands gripping his shoulders in a way that he could almost feel. He tried his best to return the gesture, to smile just as freely as she did, but he knew it must not have looked genuine. Instead, he took her hand as the hovercraft settled on the ground, waiting there faithfully for its next voyage.

He'd chosen a spot not overly populated with other trees, but enough so that his little memorial wasn't exposed to all the elements.

Loki stopped abruptly when he saw his little tree, his gift to a dead mother, surrounded by birds. They must have crawled out of hiding when the weather warmed—and decided to use his tree as building material for their nests. Two fat black crows yanked at the tender branches, snapping them and dragging away the few lingering leaves. The assault wounded him, so much so that he let go of Max's hand and staggered forward. His tree. Frigga's tree.

It was barely more than its thin trunk, which looked so unsteady that even the slightest of winds could knock it down.

"Away!" he shouted, drawing forth a power he seldom used these days. There was no need for offensive magic in the walls of Odin's keep—not yet, anyway. He clapped his hands together, and on impact a pulse shot out from all around him. The birds scattered when the magic struck them, squawking and shrieking as they went.

Tears stung his eyes.

It wasn't until Max groaned that he could move again. Stuck in some immobilized horror, he'd been so focused on his destroyed tree that he'd almost forgotten she was there. When he turned, he saw her doubled over, a hand on the ground as the other pressed to her stomach.

He'd hit her too. Guilt washed over him—flooded, more like—as he crouched by her side.

"Max?"

"I'm okay," she mumbled, her eyes clenched closed. "It just… It was like getting winded by someone."

"I'm so sorry." Loki pushed the hair away from her face. "Let me fix it."

"No, no…" She straightened up and drew in a deep breath. "No, it's okay. I just needed a second."

He almost did it anyway, but he'd already overstepped his boundaries once today—he wasn't about to do it again. Redness covered her cheeks, as if she'd been holding her breath, and the smile she offered him was half-hearted at best.

"I'm sorry." It was like he couldn't say it enough. It was like he was _always_ saying it. He'd struck her with magic—unintentionally, yes, but he'd done it all the same. He'd _never_ done that before, and he never wanted to again. "I just… They… My tree…"

She looked passed him. "Your tree?"

"I…" He shook his head, then blinked hard to push back the tears. "I planted it for my mother. She… She died when the dark elves came. Protecting Jane, she… They killed her, and I wanted something eternal to remember her by, and now…"

He trailed off when she pulled him to her—directed him to her, a direction he fell into willingly. With his face buried in her neck, he tried to collect himself as she stroked his hair and rubbed his back. It was then he realized she was shaking. Pulling away, he saw her eyes red, her nose a little runny.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered, swiping a thumb under his eye delicately. "I'm so sorry for your loss."

His head drooped, his cheek in the palm of her hand. If only she'd been here in the moment. If only they hadn't been separated by a whole galaxy when his mother had ceased to be. Perhaps things would be different today.

"We can fix it," she said, and his eyes snapped open. Nodding, Max leaned up on her toes and kissed him, cautiously, their lips closed and firm. When she pulled back, she gave him a watery smile. "Come on, we can fix it."

Dazed, Loki followed behind her, his hand in both of hers, and stopped just shy of the tree. Poor little thing. He'd left it all alone, surrounded by a smattering of more mature companions with no way to defend itself from avian pests.

Max's brow furrowed as she started to pull off the broken bits of branch, and then used her sleeve to wipe the bird dung away. He could have cleansed the little tree magically, but for some reason, the gesture touched him.

"Trees are more resilient than people give them credit for," she said, tossing the fallen twigs aside. "The branches will keep growing. It's still okay."

She kneeled and pushed some of the muddy earth up at the base, as if to steady it. When she stood, it was like the attack hadn't happened. Even without magic, his little human lover had managed to fix things.

"I bet she'd love this," Max said, a slight wobble to her voice. She stood next to him, admiring the tree, and wrapped her arm around his waist. "I mean, I-I never met her, but I bet she'd be so touched to know that you did this."

"Odin turned her to starlight," he told her, recalling the funeral fires. He'd watched all the boats drift out on the seas from the palace, too distraught to stand in the crowds, and he'd seen the biggest fire of all return to the stars. There she would live, forever shining—a fitting end. His eye flicked to the tree. This was nothing, _nothing_, compared to starlight. "I'll show you her constellation when we get a clear night."

She nodded. "I'd like that." There was a brief pause, a few beats of silence, before she added, "I wish we could turn people into stars… We just cremated my mom. Dad spread her ashes around our property, but—"

"What?" It took him a moment to process the news that she too had lost her mother. "Max, why didn't you tell me?"

"Why didn't you?" She gave a one-shouldered shrug, her eyes brimming with tears. "It's not exactly something you bring up in casual conversation, is it?"

"No." He brought her closer with an arm around her shoulders. "No, I suppose it isn't."

"And people get uncomfortable with it," she said, taking a shuddering breath. "They don't know what to say, so they say they're sorry, because what else do you say to someone whose world is temporarily collapsing in on itself? And you kind of just smile and nod, because how do you respond otherwise? You can't get mad at _them_. It's not their fault, but they say sorry anyway. It's just…" She fell quiet for a moment, then looked up at him. "I guess I'm trying to say I get it, in a really inappropriate rambling kind of way."

He pressed a kiss to the side of her head, a quiet acceptance. They then stood together in silence for some time, watching the way his little tree with its stunted branches shifted in the breeze.

"How did she die?" he asked, breaking the silence with his curiosity.

"Cancer." She sniffled noisily. "Last year, it just… came back. A few months later, she was gone."

"I'm sorry."

A smile touched her lips, and she gave a weak laugh. "It's okay. It's not your fault."

"Would you like to plant something for her too?" He gestured to the tree. "Perhaps somewhere not quite as remote? The palace has an extensive greenhouse system with hundreds of different plants. If you'd like… It's not quite starlight either, but—"

"I'd love to," she told him, her voice so earnest that it made his chest feel tight, his throat thick with emotion. He nodded, turning them away from Frigga's gift and leading her back to the hovercraft. His plans to eat lunch at the foot of the tree went out the window quickly, but it didn't bother him—not in the slightest. A whole new plan formulated quickly in his mind, which involved spending the day finding the right plant for Max's mother, a woman he didn't know all that well, but he would have liked to.

"Tell me about her," Max prompted once he'd seated her in the boat. With a hand resting on the steering rod, Loki frowned. It shouldn't hurt to talk about her anymore, and yet it did. "If you want…"

"I do." He had to. He had to move beyond this barrier that kept him so withdrawn. So, he took a seat on the bench, knowing that he could steer the hovercraft with his eyes closed should the need arise. He could manage sitting backward beside her, holding the rod to keep the boat steady. He drew in a small breath as the boat eased forward, and Max wrapped her arms around his, her head on his shoulder. "To me, Frigga was perfection personified…"

* * *

><p><strong>AUTHOR'S NOTES:<strong>

**HELLO MY DARLINGS! HAPPY NEW YEAR! I can't believe it's 2015 already. Time just flies, and I hope you all have a spectacular year. **

**So I got all misty-eyed writing this chapter, and I'm sure you can imagine why. All dem Frigga feels get me going every time. All that aside, this chapter felt weird to me. It's like… when you try to talk and you have a huge wad of gum in your mouth, and everything is muffled and hard to understand. That's how my brain felt writing this. I think, in part, it has to do with the fact that I focus a lot of my plot time into the story after this one, rather than what's happening in the here and now. Not good. **

**Anywhoodle. I've been trying to indirectly express some of the pros and cons of Max and Loki's relationship through their interactions, so I'm hoping people have been paying attention. Reading it over again, despite my awkwardness with the way things were written, I did several evil author cackles about foreshadowing and things. **

**I'm off! My writing plate is uber full at the moment. The second book in my Aphrodite/Loki series is coming out in February, so I'm in the final editing stages and trying to get some marketing things ready. I also have 3 other books in the cards to write and hopefully publish (some, probably not all) later this year too, along with a bunch of freelance gigs. So. I always make room in my schedule for fanfic, but I'm crazy busy too. If I don't reply to messages super fast (or work on the one-shots I promised in exchange for reviews of my book – oi), I'm so sorry, but it's chaotic over here. **

**SEE YOU ALL IN TWO WEEKS! MUCH LOVE!**


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